A  MAN'S  VALUE 
TO  SOCIETY^tS 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT  LOS  ANGELES 

BROWSING  ROOM 


NEWELL-DWIGIfPHILUS 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT  LOS  ANGELES 

BROWSING  ROOM 


GIFT  OF 

L.    Ce.mpbell 


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A  Man's  Value  to  Society 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

Studies  in  Scli-Culture 
and  Character 


Newell   Dwight   Hillis 


'Spread  iviiie  t/iy  mantle  lufit/e  (he  gods  rain  gold.'" 

FROM  THE  PERSIAN. 


FIFTH    EDITION. 


New  York      Chicago     Toronto 

Fleming   H.  Revell   Company 


mdcccxcvii 


Copyright,   1896,  by 

Fleming  H.  Revell  Company 

Copyright,  1897,  by 

Fleming  H.  Revell  Company 


I  tC<  t*4«*-  CCCCCC  t 


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V 


1 


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3 


To  my  wife 

in  grateful  recognition  of  her  helpfulness, 

loyalty  and  devotion. 


FOREWORD. 

Dy  tho  title  "A  Man's  Value  to  Society,"  not 
all  elements  of  personal  worth  arc  implied.  The 
traits  which  lend  value  to  an  individual  are  not 
so  easily  numbered ;  full  speech  over  them  asks 
for  volumes,  many  and  large.  Unable  to  mention 
all  the  qualities  of  mind  and  heart,  that  create  wealth 
for  tho  hand,  and  lend  strength  and  beauty  to  the 
life,  I  olTer  here  a  few  studies  in  the  culture  that 
endures  and  the  character  that  is  its  own  ri'ward. 
Li'st  this  I'luphasis  of  individual  worth  as  the  genius 
of  Christianity  be  thought  undue,  it  should  be  said 
that  this  i)lea  for  individualism  will  be  followed  by 
a  study  of  social  man  and  the  social  problem. 

N.  D.  H. 


CONTENTS 


Chap.  Page 

I  The  Elements  of  Worth  in  the  Individual  9 

II  Character  :    Its  Materials  and  External 

Teachers 33 

III  Aspirations  and  Ideals 55 

IV  The  Physical  Basis  o\   Character              .  77 

V  The  Mind  and  the  Duty  of  Right 

Thinking 99 

VI  The  Moral  Uses  of  Memory       .      .      .  123 

VII  The  Imagination  as  the  Architect  of 

Manhood '+3 

VIII  The  Enthusiasm  of  Friendship     .      .      .  165 

IX  Conscience  and  Character   ....  189 

X  Visions  that  Disturb  Contentment     .  213 

XI  The  Uses  of  Books  and  Reading   .      .  235 

XII  The  Science  of  Living  with  Men      .      .259 

XIII  The  Revelators  of  Character    ...  28 1 

XIV  Making  the  Most  of  One's  Self  .      .      .     301 


The  Elements  of  Worth  in  the 
Individual 


"There  is  nothing  that  makes  men  rich  and  strong 
but  that  which  they  carry  inside  of  them.  Wealth  is 
of  the  heart,  not  of  the  hand." — John  Milton. 

"  Until  we  know  why  the  rose  is  sweet  or  the  dew 
drop  pure,  or  the  rainbow  beautiful,  we  cannot  know 
why  the  poet  is  the  best  benefactor  of  society.  The 
soldier  fights  for  his  native  land,  but  the  poet 
touches  that  land  with  the  charm  that  makes  it 
worth  fighting  for  and  fires  the  warrior's  heart  with 
energy  invincible.  The  statesman  enlarges  and  or- 
ders liberty  in  the  state,  but  the  poet  fosters  the  core 
of  liberty  in  the  heart  of  the  citizen.  The  inventor 
multiplies  the  facilities  of  life,  but  the  poet  makes 
life  better  worth  living." — George  Wm.  Curtis. 

' '  Not  all  men  are  of  equal  value.  Not  many  Platos: 
only  one,  to  whom  a  thousand  lesser  minds  look  up 
and  learn  to  think.  Not  many  Dantes:  one.  and  a 
thousand  poets  tune  their  harps  to  his  and  repeat  his 
notes.  Not  many  Raphaels:  one,  and  no  second.  But 
a  thousand  lesser  artists  looking  up  to  him  are  lifted 
to  his  level.  Not  many  royal  hearts — great  maga- 
zines of  kindness.  Happy  the  town  blessed  with  a 
few  great  minds  and  a  few  great  hearts.  One  such 
citizen  will  civilize  an  entire  community. " — H. 


The  Elements  of  Worth   in  the 
Individual 

/^UR  scientific  experts  are  investigating 
^— ^  the  wastes  of  society.  Thcii'  reports  in- 
dicate that  man  is  a  great  spendthrift.  He 
seems  not  so  much  a  husbandman,  makincr  the 
most  of  the  treasures  of  his  life-garden,  as  a 
robber  looting  a  storehouse  for  booty. 

Travelers  aftlrm  that  one  part  of  the  north- 
ern pineries  has  been  wasted  by  man's  cai'eless 
fires  and  much  of  the  rest  by  his  reckless  axe. 
Coal  experts  insist  that  a  large  percentage  of 
heat  passes  out  of  the  chimney.  The  new 
chemistry  claims  that  not  a  little  of  the  pre- 
cious ore  is  cast  upon  the  slag  heap. 

In  the  fields  the  farmers  overlook  some  ears 
of  corn  and  pass  by  some  handfuls  of  wheat. 
In  the  work-room  the  scissors  leave  selvao-e 
and  remnant.  In  the  mill  the  saw  and  plane 
refuse  slabs  and  edges.  In  the  kitchen  a  part 
of  what  the  husband  carries  in,  the  wife  s 
wasteful  cooking  casts  out.  But  the  second- 
ary wastes  involve  still  heavier  losses.      Man's 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

carelessness  in  the  factoi'y  breaks  delicate  ma- 
chinery, his  ignorance  spoils  raw  materials, 
his  idleness  burns  out  boilers,  his  recklessness 
blows  up  engines ;  and  no  skill  of  manager  in 
juggling  figures  in  January  can  retrieve  the 
wastes  of  June. 

Passing  thi'ough  the  country  the  ti'aveler 
finds  the  plow  rusting  in  the  furrow,  mowers 
and  reapei's  exposed  to  rain  and  snow; passing 
through  the  city  he  sees  the  docks  lined  with 
boats,  the  alleys  full  of  broken  vehicles,  while 
the  streets  exhibit  some  bi*oken-down  men.  A 
journey  through  life  is  like  a  journey  along 
the  trackway  of  a  retreating  army -^  here  a  val- 
uable ammunition  wagon  is  abandoned  because 
a  careless  smith  left  a  flaw  in  the  tire;  there  a 
brass  cannon  is  deserted  because  a  tug  was  im- 
proppi'ly  stitched;  yonder  a  brave  soldier  lies 
dying  in  the  thicket  where  he  fell  because  ex- 
cited men  forgot  the  use  of  an  ambulance. 
What  with  the  wastes  of  intemperance  and 
ignorance,  of  idleness  and  class  wars,  the  losses 
of  society  are  enormous.  But  man's  prod- 
igality with  his  material  treasures  does  but 
interpret  his  wastefulness  of  the  greater  riches 
of  mind  and  heart.  Life's  chief  destruc- 
tions are  in  the  city  of  man's  soul.  Many 
persons  seem  to  be  trying  to  solve  this  prob- 
lem:     "Given  a  soul  stored  with  great  ti'eas- 

lO 


The  Elements  of  Worth  in  the  Individual 

ure,  and  three  score  and  ten  years  fur  happi- 
ness and  usefuhiess,  how  shall  one  kill  the 
time  and  waste  the  treasure?"  Man's  pride 
over  his  casket  stored  with  gems  must  be  mod- 
ified by  the  retlection  that  daily  his  pearls  are 
cast  before  swine,  that  should  have  been  woven 
into  coronets. 

Man's  evident  failure  to  make  the  most  out 
of  his  material  life  suggests  a  study  of  the  ele- 
ments in  each  citizen  that  make  him  of  value 
to  his  age  and  conununity.  What  are  the 
measurements  of  mankind,  and  why  is  it  that 
daily  some  add  new  treasures  to  the  storehouse 
of  civilization,  while  others  take  from  and  waste 
the  store  already  accumulated?  These  are  ques- 
tions of  vital  import.  Many  and  varied  estimates 
of  man's  value  have  been  made.  Statisticians 
reckon  the  average  man's  value  at  $G00  a  year. 
Each  worker  in  wood,  iron  or  brass  stands  for  an 
engine  or  industrial  plant  worth  $10,0UU,  pro- 
ducing at  G  per  cent,  an  income  of  $U«)0.  The 
death  of  the  average  workman,  therefore,  is 
equivalent  to  the  destruction  of  a  $10,000  mill 
or  engine.  The  economic  loss  through  the 
non-productivity  of  20,000  drunkards  is  equal 
to  one  Chicago  fire  involving  two  hundred  mil- 
lions. Of  course,  some  men  pi'oduce  less  and 
othei-s  more  than  $(500  a  year;  and  some  there 
are  who  have  no  industrial  value — non-produ- 

II 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

cers,  according  to  Adam  Smith;  paupers,  ac- 
coi^ding  to  John  Stuart  Mill;  thieves,  according 
to  Paul,  who  says,  "Let  him  that  stole  steal 
no  more,  but  rather  work."  In  this  gi'oup  let 
us  include  the  tramps,  who  hold  that  the  world 
owes  them  a  living;  these  are  they  who  fail  to 
realize  that  society  has  given  them  support 
through  infancy  and  childhood;  has  given 
them  language,  literature,  liberty.  Wise  men 
know  that  the  noblest  and  strongest  have  re- 
ceived from  society  a  thousandfold  more  than 
they  can  ever  repay,  though  they  vex  all  the 
days  and  nights  with  ceaseless  toil.  In  this 
number  of  non-sufFicing  persons  ai'e  to  be  in- 
cluded the  paupers — paupers  plebeian,  support- 
ed in  the  poorhouse  by  many  citizens;  paupers 
patrician,  supported  in  palace  by  one  citizen, 
generally  father  or  ancestor;  the  two  classes 
differing  in  that  one  is  the  foam  at  the  top  of 
the  glass  and  the  other  the  dregs  at  the  bot- 
tom. To  these  two  groups  let  us  add  the 
social  parasites,  represented  by  thieves,  drunk- 
ards, and  persons  of  the  baser  sort  whose 
business  it  is  to  trade  in  human  passion.  We 
revolt  from  the  red  aphides  upon  the  plant,  the 
caterpillar  upon  the  tree,  the  vermin  upon  bii'd 
or  beast.  How  much  more  do  we  revolt  from 
those  human  vermin  whose  business  it  is  to 
pi'opagate  parasites    upon    the    body    politic! 

12 


The  Elements  of  Worth  in  the  Individual 

The  condemnation  of  life  is  that  a  man  con- 
sumes more  than  he  produces,  taking  out  of 
society's  granary  that  which  other  hands  have 
put  in.  The  praise  of  life  is  that  one  is  self- 
sufficing,  taking  less  out  than  he  put  into  the 
storehouse  of  civilization. 

A  man's  original  capital  comes  through  his 
ancestry.  Nature  invests  the  grandsire's 
ability,  and  compounds  it  for  the  grandson. 
Plato  says:  "The  child  is  a  charioteer  driving 
two  steeds  up  the  long  life-hill;  one  steed  is 
white,  representing  our  best  impulses;  one 
steed  is  dark,  standing  for  our  worst  passions." 
Who  gave  these  steeds  their  color  ?  Our 
fathers,  Plato  replies,  and  the  child  may  not 
change  one  hair,  white  or  black.  Oliver 
Wendell  Holmes  would  have  us  think  that  a 
man's  value  is  determined  a  hundred  years  be- 
fore his  birth.  The  ancestral  ground  slopes 
upward  toward  the  mountain-minded  man.  The 
great  never  appear  suddenly.  Seven  genera- 
tions of  clergymen  make  ready  for  Emerson, 
each  a  signboard  pointing  to  the  coming  phi- 
losopher. The  Mississippi  has  power  to  bear 
up  fleets  for  war  or  peace  because  the  storms 
of  a  thousand  summers  and  the  snows  of  a 
thousand  winters  have  lent  depth  and  power. 
The  measure  of  greatness  in  a  man  is  de- 
termined   by    the    intellectual    streams     and 

>3 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

moral  tides  flowing  down  from  the  ancestral 
hills  and  emptying  into  the  human  soul.  The 
Bach  family  included  one  hundred  and  twenty 
musicians.  Paganini  was  born  with  muscles 
in  his  wrists  like  whipcords.  What  was  unique 
in  Socrates  was  first  unique  in  Sophroniscus. 
John  ran  before  Jesus,  but  Zacharias  foretold 
John.  No  electricity  along  rope  wires,  and  no 
vital  living  truths  along  rope  nerves  to  spongy 
brain.  There  are  millions  in  our  world  who 
have  been  rendered  physical  and  moral  paupers 
by  the  sins  of  their  ancestors.  Their  forefathers 
doomed  them  to  be  hewers  of  wood  and  drawers 
of  water.  A  century  must  pass  before  one  of 
their  children  can  crowd  his  way  up  and  show 
strength  enough  to  shape  a  tool,  outline  a 
code,  create  an  industry,  reform  a  wrong. 
Despotic  governments  have  stunted  men — made 
them  thin-blooded  and  low-browed,  all  back- 
head  and  no  forehead.  Each  child  has  been 
likened  to  a  cask  whose  staves  represent 
trees  growing  on  hills  distant  and  widely 
separated;  some  staves  are  sound  and  solid, 
standing  for  right-living  ancestors;  some  are 
worm-eaten,  standing  for  ancestors  whose 
integrity  was  consumed  by  vices.  At  birth  all 
the  staves  are  brought  together  in  the  in- 
fant cask — empty,  but  to  be  filled  by  par- 
ents and  teachers  and  friends.     As  the  waste- 


The  Elements  of  Worth  in  the  Individual 

barrel  in  the  alley  is  filled  with  refuse  and 
filth,  so  the  orphan  waifs  in  our  streets  are 
made  receptacles  of  all  vicious  thoughts  and 
deeds.  These  children  are  not  so  much  born 
as  damned  into  life.  But  how  different  is 
the  childhood  of  some  others.  On  the  Easter 
day,  in  foreign  cathedrals,  a  beauteous  vase  is 
placed  beside  the  altar,  and  as  the  multitudes 
crowd  forward  and  the  solemn  piocession 
moves  up  the  aisles,  men  and  women  cast  into 
the  vase  their  gifts  of  gold  and  silver  and 
pearls  and  lace  and  rich  textures.  The  well- 
born child  seems  to  be  such  a  vase,  unspeak- 
ably beautiful,  filled  with  knowledges  and  in- 
tegrities more  precious  than  gold  and  pearls. 
"Let  him  who  would  be  great  select  the  right 
parents,"  was  the  keen  dictum  of  President 
Dwight. 

By  the  influence  of  the  racial  element,  the 
laborer  in  northern  Europe,  viewed  as  a  pro- 
ducing machine,  doubles  the  industrial  output 
of  his  southern  brother.  The  child  of  the  tropics 
is  out  of  the  race.  For  centuries  he  has  dozed 
under  the  banana  tree,  awakening  only  to  shake 
the  tree  and  bring  down  ripe  fruit  for  his  hun- 
ger, eating  to  sleep  again.  His  muscles  are  flab- 
by, his  blood  is  thin,  his  brain  unequal  to  the 
strain  of  two  ideas  in  one  day.   When  Sir  John 

15 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

Lubbock  had  fed  the  chief  in  the  South  Sea 
Islands  he  began  to  ask  him  questions,  but 
within  ten  minutes  the  savage  was  sound 
asleep.  When  awakened  the  old  chief  said: 
"Ideas  make  me  so  sleepy."  Similarly,  the 
warm  Venetian  blood  has  given  few  great  men 
to  civilization ;  but  the  hills  of  Scotland  and  New 
England  produce  scholars,  statesmen,  poets, 
financiers,  with  the  alacrity  with  which  Texas 
produces  cotton  or  Missouri  corn.  History 
traces  certain  influential  nations  back  to  a 
single  progenitor  of  unique  strength  of  body 
and  character.  Thus  Abraham,  Theseus, 
and  Cadmus  seem  like  springs  feeding  great 
and  increasing  rivers.  One  wise  and 
original  thinker  founds  a  tribe,  shapes  the 
destiny  of  a  nation,  and  multiplies  himself  in 
the  lives  of  future  millions.  In  accordance 
with  this  law,  tenacity  reappears  in  every 
Scotchman;  wit  sparkles  in  every  Irishman; 
vivacity  is  in  every  Frenchman's  blood;  the 
Saxon  is  a  colonizer  and  originates  institu- 
tions. During  the  construction  of  the  Suez 
Canal  it  was  discovered  that  workmen  with 
veins  filled  with  Teutonic  blood  had  a  commer- 
cial value  two  and  a  half  times  greater  than 
the  Egyptians.  Similarly,  during  the  Indian 
war,  the  Highland  troops  endured  double 
the   strain   of   the   native   forces.      Napoleon 

i6 


The  Elements  of  Worth  in  the  Individual 

shortened  the  stature  of  the  French  people 
two  inches  by  choosing  all  the  taller  of  his 
30,000,000  subjects  and  killing  them  in  war. 
Waxing  indignant,  Horace  Mann  thinks  "the 
forehead  of  the  Irish  peasantry  was  lowered 
an  inch  when  the  government  made  it  an 
offense  punishable  with  fine,  imprisonment, 
and  a  traitor's  death  to  be  the  teacher  of  chil- 
dren." A  wicked  government  can  make 
agony,  epidemic,  brutalize  a  race,  and  reaching 
forward,  fetter  generations  yet  unborn. 
"Blood  tells,"  says  science.  But  blood  is 
the  radical  element  put  out  at  compound  in- 
terest and  handed  forward  to  generations  yet 
unborn. 

The  second  measure  of  a  man's  value  to 
society  is  found  in  his  original  endowment 
of  physical  strength.  The  child's  birth-stock 
of  vital  force  is  his  capital  to  be  traded  upon. 
Other  things  being  equal  his  productive  value 
is  to  be  estimated  mathematically  upon  the 
basis  of  physique.  Born  weak  and  nerveless, 
he  must  go  to  society's  ambulance  wagon,  and 
so  impede  the  onward  march.  Born  vigorous 
and  rugged,  he  can  help  to  clear  the  forest  road- 
way or  lead  the  advancing  columns.  Funda- 
mentally man  is  a  muscular  machine  for  pro- 
ducing the  ideas  that  shape  conduct  and  char- 
acter.    All    fine    thinking    stands    with    one 

17 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

foot  on  fine  brain  fiber.  Given  large  physical 
organs,  lungs  with  capacity  sufficient  to  oxy- 
genate the  life-currents  as  they  pass  upward; 
large  arteries  through  which  the  blood  may 
have  full  course,  run,  and  be  glorified ;  a  bi-ain 
healthy  and  balanced  with  a  compact  nervous 
system,  and  you  have  the  basis  for  computing 
what  will  be  a  man's  value  to  society.  Men 
differ,  of  course,  in  ways  many — they  differ  in 
the  number  and  range  of  their  affections,  in 
the  scope  of  conscience,  in  taste  and  imag- 
ination, and  in  moral  energy.  But  the 
original  point  of  variance  is  physical.  Some 
have  a  small  body  and  a  powerful  mind,  like  a 
Corliss  engine  in  a  tiny  boat,  whose  frail 
structure  will  soon  be  racked  to  pieces. 
Others  are  born  with  large  bodies  and  very  lit- 
tle mind,  as  if  a  toy  engine  were  set  to  run  a 
mudscow.  This  means  that  the  poor  engineer 
must  pole  up  stream  all  his  life.  Others,  by  ig- 
noi'anceof  parent,  or  accident  through  nurse,  or 
through  their  own  blunder  or  sin,  destroy  their 
bodily  capital.  Soon  they  are  like  boats  cast 
high  and  dry  upon  the  beach,  doomed  to  sun- 
cracking  and  decay.  Then,  in  addition  to 
these  absolute  weaknesses,  come  the  dispro- 
portions of  the  body,  the  distemperature  of 
various  organs.  It  is  not  necessary  for  spoil- 
ing a  timepiece  to  break  its  every  bearing ;  one 

i8 


The  Elements  of  Worth  in  the  Individual 

loose  screw  stops  all  the  wheels.  Thus  a  very 
sliirht  error  as  to  the  management  of  the 
bodily  mechanism  is  sufficient  to  prevent 
fine  creative  work  as  author,  speaker,  or  in- 
ventor. Few  men,  perhaps,  ever  learn  how  to 
so  manage  their  brain  and  stomach  as  to  be 
capable  of  high-pressure  brain  action  for  days 
at  a  time — until  the  cumulative  mental  forces 
break  through  all  obstacles  and  conquer  suc- 
cess. A  great  leader  represents  a  kind  of 
essence  of  common  sense,  but  rugged  common 
sense  is  sanity  of  nerve  and  brain.  lie  who 
rules  and  leads  must  have  mind  and  v/ill,  but 
he  must  have  chest  and  stomach  also.  Beecher 
says  the  gun  carriage  must  be  in  proportion  to 
the  gun  it  carries.  When  health  goes  the  gun 
is  spiked.  Ideas  arc  arrows,  and  the  body  is  the 
bow  that  sends  them  home.      The  mind  aims; 

Good  health  may  be  better  than  genius  or 
wealth  or  honor.  It  was  when  the  gymnasium 
had  made  each  Athenian  youth  an  Apollo  in 
health  and  strength  that  the  feet  of  the  Greek 
race  ran  most  nimbly  along  the  paths  of  art 
and  literature  and  philosophy. 

Another  test  of  a  man's  value  is  an  intel- 
lectual one.  The  largest  wastes  of  any  nation 
are  through  ignorance.  Failure  is  want  of 
knowledge;  success  is  knowing  how.     Wealth 

19 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

is    not  in    things    of    iron,  wood    and     stone. 
Wealth   is   in   the    brain    that   organizes    the 
metal.      Pig  iron  is  worth  $20  a  ton;  made  into 
horse  shoes,  $90;  into  knife  blades,  $200;  into 
watch  springs,  $1,000.      That  is,  raw  iron  $20, 
brain  power,  $980.      Millet  bought  a  yard  of 
canvas  for  1  franc,    paid  2  more  francs   for  a 
hair  brush  and  some  colors ;  upon  this  canvas 
he    spread  his  genius,    giving  us    "The  An- 
gelus."     The  original  investment  in  i-aw  ma- 
terial was  60  cents ;  his  intelligence  gave  that 
raw  material  a  value  of  $105,000.     One  of  the 
pictures  at  the  World's    Fair    represented  a 
savage   standing  on   the    bank  of    a  stream, 
anxious  but  ignorant  as  to  how  he  could  cross 
the  flood.     Knowledge  toward  the  metal  at  his 
feet  gave  the  savage  an  axe;  knowledge    to- 
ward the  tree  gave  him  a  canoe;  knowledge 
toward  the  union  of  canoes  gave  him  a  boat; 
knowledge  toward  the  wind  added  sails;  knowl- 
edge  towai-d    fire    and    water    gave   him    the 
ocean  steamer.    Now,  if  from  the  captain  stand- 
ing on  the  prow  of  that  floating  palace,  the 
City  of  New  York,  we  could  take  away  man's 
knowledge  as  we  remove  peel  after  peel  from 
an  onion,  we  would  have  from  the  iron  steamer, 
first,   a  sailboat,   then  a  canoe,  then  axe  and 
tree,  and  at  last  a  savage,  naked  and  helpless 
to  cross  a  little  stream.     In  the  final  analysis 

20 


The  Elements  of  Worth  in  the  Individual 

it  is  ignorance  that  wastes;  it  is  knowledge 
that  saves;  it  is  wisdom  that  gives  precedence. 
If  sleep  is  the  brother  of  death,  ignorance  is 
full  brother  to  both  sleep  and  death.  An  un- 
taught faculty  is  at  once  quiescent  and  dead. 
An  ignorant  man  has  been  defined  as  one 
"  whom  God  has  packed  up  and  men  have  not 
unfolded.  The  best  forces  in  such  a  one  are 
perpetually  paralyzed.  Eyes  he  has,  but  he 
cannot  see  the  length  of  his  hand;  ears  he  has, 
and  all  the  finest  sounds  in  creation  escape 
him;  a  tongue  he  has,  and  it  is  forever  blun- 
dering." A  mechanic  who  has  a  chest  of  forty 
tools  and  can  use  only  the  hammer,  saw,  and 
gimlet,  has  little  chance  with  his  fellows  and 
soon  falls  far  behind.  An  educated  mind  is 
one  fully  awakened  to  all  the  sights  and  scenes 
and  forces  in  the  world  through  which  he  moves. 
This  does  not  mean  that  a  $2,000  man  can  be 
made  out  of  a  two-cent  boy  by  sending  him  to 
college.  Education  is  mind-husbandry;  it 
changes  the  size  but  not  the  sort.  But  if  no 
amount  of  drill  will  make  a  Shetland  pony  show 
a  two-minute  gait,  neither  will  the  thorough- 
bred show  this  speed  save  through  long  and 
assiduous  and  patient  education.  The  pri- 
mary fountains  of  our  Nation's  wealth  are  not 
in  fields  and  forests  and  mines,  but  in  the  free 
schools,  churches,  and  printing  presses.     Ig- 

21 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

norance  breeds  misery,  vice,  and  crime.  Me- 
phistopheles  was  a  cultured  devil,  but  he  is  the 
exception.  History  knows  no  illiterate  seer 
or  sage  or  saint.  No  Dante  or  Shakespeare 
ever  had  to  make  "his  X  mark." 

When  John  Cabot  Lodge  made  his  study  of 
the  distribution  of  ability  in  the  United  States, 
he  found  that  in  ninety  years  five  of  the  great 
Western  States  had  produced  but  twenty- 
seven  men  who  were  mentioned  in  the  Ameri 
can  and  English  encyclopedias,  while  little 
Massachusetts  had  2,686  authors,  orators,  phi- 
losophers, and  builders  of  States.  But  analy- 
sis shows  that  the  variance  is  one  of  education 
and  ideas.  Boston  differs  from  Quebec  as  dif- 
fer their  methods  of  instruction.  The  New 
England  settlers  were  Oxford  and  Cambridge 
men  that  represented  the  best  blood,  brain, 
and  accumulated  culture  of  old  England. 
Landing  in  the  foi^est  they  clustered  their 
cabins  around  the  building  that  was  at  once 
church,  school,  library,  and  town  hall.  Rising 
early  and  sitting  up  late  they  plied  their 
youth  with  ideas  of  liberty  and  intelligence. 
They  came  together  on  Sunday  morning  at 
nine  o'clock  to  listen  to  a  prayer  one  hour  long, 
a  sei'mon  of  three  hours,  and  after  a  cold  lunch 
heard  a  second  brief  sermon  of  two  hours  and 
a  half — those  who  did  not  die  became  great. 

22 


The  Elements  of  Worth  in  the  Individual 

What  Sunday  began  the  week  continued.  We 
may  smile  at  their  methods  but  we  must  ad- 
mire the  men  they  produced.  Mark  the  intel- 
lectual history  of  Northampton.  During  its 
history  this  town  has  sent  out  114  lawyers, 
112  ministers,  95  physicians,  100  educators,  7 
college  presidents,  30  professors,  24  editors,  G 
historians,  14  authors,  among  whom  are  George 
Bancroft,  John  Lothrop  Motley,  Professor 
Whitney,  the  late  J.  G.  Holland;  38  officers  of 
State,  28  officers  of  the  United  States,  includ- 
ing membei's  of  the  Senate,  and  one  President. 
How  comes  it  that  this  little  colony  has  raised  up 
this  great  company  of  authors,  statesmen,  re- 
formers ?  No  mere  chance  is  working  here. 
The  relation  between  sunshine  and  harvest  is  not 
more  essential  than  the  relation  between  these 
folk  and  their  renowned  descendants.  Fruit 
after  his  kind  is  the  divine  explanation  of 
Northampton's  influence  upon  the  nation. 
"  Education  makes  men  great"  is  the  divine 
dictum.  George  William  Curtis  has  said: 
"The  Revolutionary  leaders  were  all  trained 
men,  as  the  world's  leaders  always  have  been 
from  the  day  when  Themis tocles  led  the  edu- 
cated Athenians  at  Salamis,  to  that  when  Von 
Moltke  marshaled  the  educated  Germans 
against  France.  The  sure  foundations  of  states 
are  laid   in  knowledge,  not  in  ignorance;  and 

23 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

every  sneer  at  education,  at  book  learning, 
which  is  the  recorded  wisdom  of  the  experi- 
ence of  mankind,  is  the  demagogue's  sneer  at 
intelligent  liberty,  inviting  national  degenera- 
tion and  ruin." 

Consider,  also,  how  the  misfits  of  life  affect 
man's  value.  The  successful  man  grasps 
the  handle  of  his  being.  He  moves  in  the  line 
of  least  resistance.  That  one  accomplishes 
most  whose  heart  sings  while  his  hand  works. 
Like  animals  men  have  vai'ied  uses.  The  lark 
sings,  the  ox  beai-s  burdens,  the  horse  is  for 
strength  and  speed.  But  men  who  are  wise  to- 
ward beasts  are  often  foolish  toward  themselves. 
Multitudes  drag  themselves  toward  the  factory 
or  field  who  would  have  moved  toward  the 
forum  with  "feet  as  hind's  feet."  Other  mul- 
titudes fret  and  chafe  in  the  office  whose  de- 
sires are  in  the  streets  and  fields.  Whoever 
scourges  himself  to  a  task  he  hates  serves  a 
hard  master,  and  the  slave  will  get  but  scant 
pay.  If  a  farmer  should  hitch  horses  to  a  tel- 
escope and  try  to  plow  with  it  he  would  ruin 
the  instrument  in  the  summer  and  starve  his 
family  in  the  winter.  Not  the  wishes  of  pa- 
rent, nor  the  vanity  of  wife,  nor  the  pride  of 
place,  but  God  and  natui'e  choose  occupa- 
tion. Each  child  is  unique,  as  new  as 
was     the    first     arrival     upon     this     planet. 

24 


The  Elements  of  Worth  in  the  Individual 

The  school  is  to  help  the  boy  unpack  what  in- 
tellectual tools  he  has;  education  does  not 
change,  but  puts  temper  into  these  tools.  No 
man  can  alter  his  temperament,  though  trying 
to  he  can  break  his  heart.  How  pathetic  the 
wrecks  of  men  who  have  chosen  the  wronor  oc- 
cupation!  The  driver  bathes  the  raw  shoulder 
of  a  horse  whose  collar  does  not  fit,  but  when 
men  make  their  misfits  and  the  heart  is  sore 
society  does  not  soothe,  but  with  whips  it 
scourges  the  man  to  his  fruitless  task.  This 
lai'ge  class  may  be  counted  unproductive.  John 
Stuart  Mill  placed  the  industrial  mismatings 
among  the  heavier  losses  of  society. 

To  this  element  of  wisdom  in  relating  one's 
self  to  duties  must  be  added  skill  in  maintain- 
ing smooth  relations  with  one's  fellows.  Men 
may  produce  much  by  industry  and  ability, 
and  yet  destroy  more  by  the  malign  elements 
they  cari'y.  The  proud  domineering  employer 
tears  down  with  one  hand  what  he  builds  up 
with  the  other.  One  foolish  man  can  cost  a 
city  untold  treasure.  How  many  factories 
have  failed  because  the  owner  has  no  skill  in 
managing  men  and  mollifying  difficulties.  His- 
tory shows  that  stupid  thrones  and  wars  go 
together,  while  skillful  kings  bring  long  inter- 
vals of  peace.  Contrasting  the  methods  of 
two  prominent  men,  an  editor  once  said:   ••  The 

25 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

first  man  in  making  one  million  cost  society 
ten  millions;  but  the  other  so  produced  his  one 
million  as  to  add  ten  more  to  society's  wealth." 
A  most  disastrous  strike  in  England's  history 
had  its  origin  in  ignorance  of  this  principle. 
The  miners  of  a  certain  coal  field  had  suffered 
a  severe  cut  in  wages.  They  had  determined 
to  accept  it,  though  it  took  their  children  out 
of  school,  and  took  away  their  meat  dinner. 
When  the  hour  appointed  for  the  conference 
came,  prudence  would  have  dictated  that  every 
cause  of  irritation  be  guarded  against.  But 
the  emjDloyer  foolishly  drove  his  liveried  car- 
riage into  the  center  of  the  vast  crowd  of 
workmen,  and  for  an  hour  flaunted  his  wealth 
before  the  sore-hearted  miners.  When  the 
men  saw  the  footman,  the  prancing  hoi'ses, 
the  gold-plated  harness,  and  thought  of  their 
starving  wives,  they  reversed  their  acceptance 
of  the  cut  in  wages.  They  plunged  into  a 
long  strike,  taking  this  for  their  motto:  "Furs 
for  his  footmen  and  gold  plate  for  his  horses, 
and  also  three  meals  a  day  for  our  wives  and 
children."  Now,  the  ensuing  strike  and  riots, 
long  pi'otracted,  cost  England  £5,000,000. 
But  that  bitter  strike  was  all  needless.  These 
are  the  men  who  take  off  the  chariot  wheels  for 
God's  advancing  hosts.  When  one  comes  to 
the  front  who  has  skill  in  allaying  friction,  all 

26 


The  Elements  of  Worth  in  tlie  Individual 

society  bej^ins  a  new  forward  march.  Skill  in 
personal  carriage  has  much  to  do  with  a  man's 
value. 

Integrity  enhances  human  worth.  Iniquities 
devastate  a  city  like  fire  and  pestilence.  Social 
wealth  and  happiness  are  through  right  living. 
Goodness  is  a  commodity.  Conscience  in  a 
cashier  has  a  cash  value.  If  arts  and  indus- 
tries are  flowers  and  fruits,  moralities  are  the 
roots  that  nourish  them.  Disobedience  is 
slavery.  Obedince  is  liberty.  Disobedience 
to  law  of  fire  or  water  or  acid  is  death.  Obe- 
dience to  law  of  color  gives  the  artist  his  skill ; 
obedience  to  the  law  of  eloquence  gives  the 
orator  his  force;  obedience  to  the  law  of  iron 
gives  the  inventor  his  tool;  disobedience  to 
the  law  of  morals  gives  waste  and  want  and 
wretchedness.  That  individual  or  nation 
is  hastening  toward  poverty  that  does 
not  love  the  right  and  hate  the  wrong. 
So  certain  is  the  penalty  of  wrongdoing 
that  sin  seems  infinitely  stupid.  Evei'y 
transgression  is  like  an  iron  plate  thrown  into 
the  air;  gravity  will  pull  it  back  upon  the 
wronsdoer's  head  to  wound  him.  It  has  been 
said  for  a  man  to  betray  his  trust  for  money,  is 
for  him  to  stand  on  the  same  intellectual  level 
with  a  monkey  that  scalds  its  throat  with  boil- 
ing water  because  it  is  thirsty.    A  drunkard  is 

27 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

one  who  exchanges    ambrosia  and  nectar  for 
garbage.     A  profligate  is  one  who  declines  an 
invitation  to  banquet  with  the  gods  that  he 
may  dine  out  of  an  ash  barrel.     What  blight 
is  to  the  vine,  sin  is  to  a  man.     When  the  first 
thief  appeared  in  Plymouth  colony  a  man  was 
withdrawn  from  the  fields  to  make  locks  for 
the  houses ;  when   two   thieves  came  a  second 
toiler  was  withdrawn  from  the  factory  to  serve 
as  nip-ht  watchman.      Soon  others   were  taken 
from  productive  industry  to  build  a  jail  and  to 
interpret  and  execute  the  law.     Every  sin  costs 
the   state   much  hard    cash.     Consider    what 
wastes  hatred  hath  wrought.     Once  Italy  and 
Greece   and   Centi^al   Europe   made   one   vast 
storehouse  filled  with  pi'ecious  art  treasures. 
But  men  turned  the  cathedrals  into  arsenals  of 
war.     If  the  clerks  in  some  porcelain  or  cut- 
glass  stoi^e  should  attend  to  their  duties  in  the 
morning,  and  each   afternoon  have  a  pitched 
battle,  during   which   they   should   throw   the 
vases  and  cups  and  medallions   at  each  other, 
and  each  night  pick  up  a  piece  of  vase,  here 
an  armless  Venus  and  there  a  headless  Apollo, 
to  put  away  for  future  generations   to  study, 
we  should  have  that  which   answers  precisely 
to  what  has  gone  on  for  centuries  thi-ough  ha- 
treds and  class  wars.     An  outlook  upon  society 
is  much  like  a  visit  to  Lisbon  after  an  earth- 

28 


The  Elements  of  Worth  in  the  Individual 

quake  has  filled  the  streets  with  debris  and 
shaken  down  homes,  palaces,  and  temples. 
History  is  full  of  the  ruins  of  cities  and  em- 
pires. Not  time,  but  disobedience,  hath 
wroucfht  their  destruction.     New  civilizations 

CD 

will  be  reared  by  coming  generations ;  upright- 
ness will  lay  the  foundations  and  integrity  will 
complete  the  structure.  The  temple  is  right- 
eousness in  which  God  dwelleth. 

"Have  life  more  abundantly."  Man  is  not 
fated  to  a  scant  allowance  nor  a  fixed  amount, 
but  he  is  allured  forward  by  an  unmeasured 
possibility.  Personality  may  be  enlarged  and 
enriched.  It  has  been  said  that  Cromwell  was 
the  best  thing  England  ever  produced.  And 
the  mission  of  Jesus  Chi-ist  is  to  carry  each  up 
from  littleness  to  full-orbed  largeness.  It  has 
always  been  true  that  when  some  genius,  e.  g., 
Watt,  invents  a  model  the  people  have  repro- 
duced it  times  innumerable.  So  what  man 
asks  for  is  not  the  increase  of  birth  talent,  but 
a  pattern  after  which  this  raw  material  can  be 
fashioned.  Carbon  makes  charcoal,  and  carbon 
makes  diamond,  too,  but  the  "  sea  of  light "  is 
carbon  crystallized  to  a  pattern.  Builders  lay 
bricks  by  plan;  the  musician  follows  his  score; 
the  value  of  a  York  minster  is  not  in  the  num- 
ber of  cords  of  stone,  but  in  the  plan  that 
organized  them;  and  the  value  of  a  man  is  in 

29 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

the  reply  to  this  question:  Have  the  raw 
materials  of  nature  been  wrought  up  into 
unity  and  harmony  by  the  Exemplar  of  human 
life?  Daily  he  is  here  to  stir  the  mind  with 
holy  ambitions;  to  wing  the  heart  with  noble 
aspirations;  to  inspire  with  an  all-conquering 
courage;  to  vitalize  the  whole  manhood.  By 
makincT  the  individual  rich  within  he  creates 
value  without.  For  all  things  are  first 
thoughts.  Tools,  fabrics,  ships,  houses,  books 
are  first  ideas,  afterward  crystallized  into 
outer  foi'm.  A  great  picture  is  a  beautiful 
conception  rushing  into  visible  expression  up- 
on the  canvas.  Wake  up  taste  in  a  man  and 
he  beautifies  his  home.  Wake  up  conscience 
and  he  drives  iniquities  out  of  his  heart.  Wake 
up  his  ideas  of  freedom  and  he  fashions  new 
laws.  Jesus  Christ  is  hei'e  to  inflame  man's 
soul  within  that  he  may  transform  and  enrich 
his  life  without.  No  picture  ever  painted,  no 
statue  ever  carved,  no  cathedral  ever  builded 
is  half  so  beautiful  as  the  Christ-formed  man. 
What  is  man's  value  to  society?  Let  him 
who  knoweth  what  is  in  us  reply:  "What  shall 
it  pi'ofit  a  man  if  he  gain  the  whole  world  and 
lose  his  own  soul?  " 


30 


Character:  Its  Materials  And 
External  Teachers 


"  Character  is  more  than  intellect.  A  great  soul 
will  be  strong  to  live,  as  well  as  to  think.  Goodness 
outshines  genius,  as  the  sun  makes  the  electric  light 
cast  a  shadow." — Emerson. 

"  What  the  superior  man  seeks  is  in  himself;  what 
the  small  man  seeks  is  in  others." — Confuci\is. 

"  After  all,  the  kind  of  world  one  carries  about  in 
one's  self  is  the  important  thing,  and  the  world  out- 
side takes  all  its  grace,  color  and  value  from  that." 
— James  Russell  Lowell. 

"  Sow  an  act  and  you  reap  a  habit ;  sow  a  habit  and 
you  reap  a  character ;  sow  a  chai*acter  and  you  reap  a 
destiny. " — Anon. 

"So  teach  us  to  number  our  days  that  we  may 
apply  our  hearts  unto  wisdom. " — Psalm  90. 


II 


Character:    Its  Materials  and 
External  Teachers 

■pvYING,  Horace  Greeley  exclaimed:  "Fame 
'^  is  a  vapor,  popularity  an  accident,  riches 
take  wings,  those  who  cheer  to-day  will  curse 
to-morrow, only  one  thing  endures — character! " 
Those  weighty  words  bid  all  remember  that 
life's  one  task  is  the  making  of  manhood. 
Our  world  is  a  college,  events  are  teachers, 
ha})piness  is  the  graduating  point,  character 
is  the  diploma  God  gives  man.  The  forces 
that  increase  happiness  are  many,  including 
money,  friends,  position ;  but  one  thing  alone 
is  indispensable  to  success — personal  worth 
and  manhood.  He  who  stands  forth  clothed 
with  real  weight  of  goodness  can  neither  be 
feeble  in  life,  nor  forgotten  in  death.  Society 
admires  its  scholar,  but  society  reveres  and 
loves  its  hero  whose  intellect  is  clothed  with 
goodness.  For  character  is  not  of  the  intel- 
lect, but  of  the  disposition.  Its  qualities 
strike  through  and  color  the  mind  and  heart 
even  as  summer  strikes  the  matui'ed  fruit 
through  with  juicy  ripeness. 

33 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

Of  that  noble  Greek  who  governed  his  city 
by  unwritten  laws,  the  people  said :  "Phocion's 
character  is  more  than  the  constitution."  The 
weight  of  goodness  in  Lamartine  was  such  that 
during  the  bloody  days  in  Paris  his  doors  were 
unlocked.  Character  in  him  was  a  defense  be- 
yond the  force  of  rock  walls  or  armed  regi- 
ments. Emerson  says  there  was  a  certain 
power  in  Lincoln,  Washington  and  Burke 
not  to  be  explained  by  their  printed  words. 
Burke  the  man  was  inexpressibly  finer  than 
anything  he  said.  As  a  spring  is  more  than 
the  cup  it  fills,  as  a  poet  or  architect  is  more 
than  the  songs  he  sings  or  the  temple  he  rears, 
so  the  man  is  more  than  the  book  or  business 
he  fashions.  Earth  holds  many  wondrous 
scenes  called  temples,  battle-fields,  cathedrals, 
but  earth  holds  no  scene  comparable  for 
majesty  and  beauty  to  a  man  clothed  indeed 
with  intellect,  but  adorned  also  with  integri- 
ties and  virtues.  Beholding  such  a  one,  well 
did  Milton  exclaim :  "  A  good  man  is  the  ripe 
fruit  our  earth  holds  up  to  God." 

Character  has  been  defined  as  the  joint  prod- 
uct of  nature  and  nurture.  Nature  gives  the 
raw  material,  character  is  the  carved  statue. 
The  raw  material  includes  the  racial  endowment, 
temperament,  degree  of  vital  force,  mentality, 
aptitude  for  tool  or  industry,  for  art  or  science. 

34 


Character 

These  birth-gifts  arc  quantities,  fixed  and  unal- 
terable. No  hcart-rendings  can  change  the  two- 
talent  nature  into  a  ten-talent  man.  No  agony 
of  effort  can  add  a  cubit  to  the  stature.  The 
eagle  flies  over  the  chasm  as  easily  as  an  ant 
crawls  over  the  crack  in  the  ground.  Shake- 
speare writes  Hamlet  as  easily  as  Tupper 
wrote  his  talcs.  Once  an  oak,  always  an  oak. 
Care  and  culture  can  thicken  the  girth  of  the 
tree,  but  no  degree  of  culture  can  cause  an  oak 
bough  to  bring  forth  figs  instead  of  acorns. 
Rebellion  against  temperament  and  circum- 
stance is  sure  to  end  in  the  breaking  of  the 
heart.  Happiness  and  success  begin  with  the 
sincere  acceptance  of  the  birth-gift  and  career 
God  hath  chosen. 

Since  lao  man  can  do  his  best  work  save  as 
he  uses  his  strongest  faculties,  the  first  duty  of 
each  is  to  search  out  the  line  of  least  resistance. 
He  who  has  a  genius  for  moral  themes  but 
has  harnessed  himself  to  the  plow  or  the  forge, 
is  in  danger  of  wrecking  both  happiness  and 
character.  All  such  misfits  are  fatal.  No 
farmer  harnesses  a  fawn  to  the  plow,  or  puts 
an  ox  into  the  speeding-wagon.  Life's  problem 
is  to  make  a  right  inventory  of  the  gifts  one 
carries.  As  no  carpenter  knows  what  tools 
are  in  the  box  until  he  lifts  the  lid  and  un- 
wraps one  shining  instrument  after  another, 

35 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

so  the  instruments  in  the  soul  must  be  un- 
folded by  education.  Ours  is  a  world  where 
the  inventor  accompanies  the  machine  with  a 
chart,  illustrating  the  use  of  each  wheel  and 
escapement.  But  no  babe  lying  in  the  cradle 
ever  brought  with  it  a  hand-book  setting  forth 
its  mental  equipment  and  pointing  out  its 
aptitude  for  this  occupation,  or  that  art  or  in- 
dustry. The  gai'dener  plants  a  root  v/ith  per- 
fect certainty  that  a  rose  will  come  up,  but 
no  man  is  a  prophet  vv'ise  enough  to  tell 
whether  this  babe  v/ill  unfold  into  quality  of 
thinker  or  doer  or  dreamer.  To  each  Nature 
whispers:  "  Unsight,  unseen,  hold  fast  what 
you  have."  For  the  soul  is  shadowless  and 
mysterious.  No  hand  can  carve  its  outline, 
no  brush  portray  its  lineaments.  Even  the 
mother  embosoming  its  infancy  and  carrying 
its  weaknesses,  studying  it  by  day  and  night 
through  years,  sees  not,  she  cannot  see, 
knows  not,  she  cannot  know,  into  what  splendor 
of  maturity  the  child  will  unfold. 

Man  beholds  his  fellows  as  one  beholds  a 
volume  written  in  a  foreign  language;  the 
outer  binding  is  seen,  the  inner  contents  are 
unread.  Within  general  lines  phrenology  and 
physiognomy  are  helpful,  but  it  is  easier  to 
determine  what  kind  of  a  man  lives  in  the 
house  by  looking  at  the  knob  on  his  front  door 

3^ 


Character 

than  to  determine  the  brain  and  heart  within 
by  studying  the  bumps  upon  face  and  forehead. 
Nature's  dictum  is,  "Grasp  the  handle  of  your 
own  being. "  Each  must  fashion  his  own  charac- 
ter. Nature  gives  trees,  but  not  tools ;  forests, 
but  not  furniture.  Thus  nature  furnishes  man 
with  the  birth  materials  and  environment; 
man  must  work  up  these  materials  into  the 
qualities  called  industry,  integrity,  honor, 
truth  and  love,  ever  patterning  after  that 
ideal  man,  Jesus  Christ,  ever  breathing  forth 
his  spirit. 

The  influences  shaping  nature's  raw  material 
into  character  are  many  and  various.  Of  old, 
the  seer  likened  the  soul  unto  clay.  The  mud 
falls  upon  the  board  before  the  potter,  a  rude 
mass,  without  form  or  comeliness.  But  an 
hour  afterward  the  clay  stands  forth  adorned 
with  all  the  beauty  of  a  lovely  vase.  Thus  the 
soul  begins,  a  mei-e  mass  of  mind,  but  hands 
many  and  powerful  soon  shape  it  into  the  out- 
lines of  some  noble  man  or  woman.  These 
teachers  include  home,  friendship,  occupation, 
travel,  success,  love,  grief  and  death. 

1.  Life's  first  teacher  is  the  external  world, 
with  its  laws.  Man  begins  at  zero.  The  child 
thrusts  his  finger  into  the  fire  and  is  burned; 
thenceforth  he  learns  to  restrain  himself  in  the 
presence  of  fire,  and  makes  the  flames  smite 

37 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

the  vapor  for  driving  train  or  ship.  The  child 
errs  in  handling  the  sharp  tool,  and  cuts  him- 
self; thenceforth  he  lifts  up  the  axe  upon  the 
tree.  The  child  mistakes  the  weight  of  stone,  or 
the  height  of  stair,  and,  falling,  hard  knocks 
teach  him  the  nature  and  use  of  gravity.  Daily 
the  thorns  that  pierce  his  feet  drive  him  back 
into  the  smooth  pathway  of  nature's  laws. 
The  sharp  pains  that  follow  each  excess  teach 
him  the  pleasures  of  sound  and  right  living. 
Nor  is  there  one  infraction  of  law  that  is  not 
followed  by  pain.  As  sharp  guards  are  placed 
at  the  side  of  the  bridge  over  the  chasm  to  hold 
men  back  from  the  abyss,  so  nature's  laws  are 
planted  on  either  side  of  the  way  of  life  to 
prick  and  scourge  erring  feet  back  into  the 
divine  way.  At  length  through  much  smiting 
of  the  body  nature  foixes  the  youth  into  a 
knowledge  of  the  world  in  which  he  lives. 
Man  learns  to  carry  himself  safely  within 
forests,  over  rivers,  through  fires,  midst  winds 
and  storms.  Soon  every  force  in  nature  stands 
forth  his  willing  servant;  becoming  like  unto 
the  steeds  of  the  plains,  that  once  were  wild, 
but  now  are  trained,  and  lend  all  their  strength 
and  force  to  man's  loins  and  limbs. 

Having  mastered  the  realm  of  physical  law, 
the  youth  is  thrust  into  the  realm  of  laws  do- 
mestic  and   social.     He    runs  up  against  his 

38 


Character 

mates  and  friends,  often  overstepping  his  own 
rights  and  infringing  the  rights  of  others. 
Then  some  stronger  arm  falls  on  his,  and 
drives  him  back  into  his  own  territory.  Occa- 
sional chastisements  through  the  parent  and 
teacher,  friend  or  enemy,  reveal  to  him 
the  nature  of  selfishness,  and  compel  the 
recognition  of  others.  Thus,  through  long  ap- 
prenticeship, the  youth  finds  out  those  laws  that 
fence  him  round,  that  press  upon  him  at  every 
pore,  by  day  and  by  night,  in  workshop  or  in 
store,  at  home  or  abroad.  These  laws  help 
mature  manhood.  When  ideas  are  thrust  into 
raw  iron,  the  iron  becomes  a  loom  or  an  engine. 
Thus  when  God's  laws  are  incarnated  in  a 
babe, the  babe  is  changed  into  the  likeness  of  a 
citizen,  a  sago  or  seer.  Nature,  with  her  laws, 
is  not  only  the  earliest,  but  also  the  most 
powerful,  of  life's  teachers. 

2.  Temptation  is  another  teacher.  Pro- 
tection gives  innocence,  but  practice  gives 
virtue.  For  ship  timber  we  pass  by  the  shel- 
tered hothouse,  seeking  the  oak  on  the  storm- 
swept  hills.  In  that  beautiful  story  of  the 
lost  paradise,  God  pulls  down  the  hedge  built 
around  Adam  and  Eve.  The  government 
through  a  fence  outside  was  succeeded  by  self- 
government  inside.  The  hermit  and  the  clois- 
tered saint  end  their  career    with  innocence. 

39 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

But  Christ,  struggling  unto  blood  against  sin, 
ends  His  career  with  character,  God  educates 
man  by  giving  him  complete  charge  over  him- 
self and  setting  him  on  the  barebacked  horse 
of  his  own  will,  leaving  him  to  break  it  by  his 
own  strength.  Travelers  in  the  arctics  tell  us 
that  the  wild  strawberry  attains  a  sweetness 
there  of  which  our  temperate  clime  knows  noth- 
ing. Scientists  say  that  the  glowworm  keeps 
its  enemies  at  bay  by  the  brightness  of  its  own 
light.  Man,  by  his  love  of  truth  and  right,  be- 
comes his  own  castle  and  fortress.  The  time  has 
gone  by  for  jewelers  to  protect  their  gold  and 
gems  with  iron  shutters.  They  best  guard 
their  treasure  by  removing  the  iron  bars  and 
substituting  the  brilliant  lights  burning 
through  all  the  night. 

Castelar  says  the  Index  Expurgatorius,  and 
those  paternal  laws  that  compelled  each 
Spaniard  to  ask  his  church  what  to  think  and 
believe,  have  robbed  the  Spanish  people  of 
enduring  and  self-reliant  manhood, and  made 
them  a  race  of  weaklings.  Of  old  the 
knights  tested  their  flashing  swords  by  bending 
them  over  their  knees.  The  warrior  believed 
that  straining  his  sword  gave  it  strength. 
Thus  every  Luther  and  Cromwell  has  been 
tempted  and  tempered  against  the  day 
of      danger      and     battle.       As       the      vic- 

40 


Character 

torious  Old  Guard  were  honored  iu  pro- 
portion to  the  number  and  danger  of  the 
wars  through  which  they  had  passed,  so  the 
temptations  that  seek  man's  destruction,  when 
conquered,  cover  him  with  glory.  Ruskin 
notes  that  the  art  epochs  have  also  been  epochs 
of  war,  upheaval,  and  tyranny.  He  accounts 
for  this  by  saying  that  when  tyranny  was 
hardest,  crime  blackest,  sin  ugliest,  then,  in 
the  recoil  and  conflict,  beauty  and  heroism  at- 
tained their  highest  development. 

Studying  the  rise  of  the  Dutch  republic, 
Motley  notes  how  the  shocks  and  fiery  baptisms 
of  war  changed  those  peasants  into  patriots. 
This  explains  society's  enthusiasm  for  its 
hero,  all  scarred  and  gray.  We  admire  the 
child's  innocence,  but  it  lacks  ripeness  and  ma- 
turity ;  it  is  only  a  handful  of  germs.  But 
every  heart  kindles  and  glows  when  the  true 
hero  stands  forth  in  the  person  of  some  Paul 
or  Savonarola,  some  Luther  or  Lincoln,  having 
passed  through  fire,  through  flood,  through  all 
the  thunder  of  life's  battle,  ever  ripening,  sweet- 
ening and  enlarging,  his  fineness  and  gentle- 
ness being  the  result  of  great  strength  and 
great  wisdom,  accumulated  through  long  life, 
until  he  stands,  at  the  end  of  his  career,  as  the 
sun  stands  on  a  summer  afternoon  just  be- 
fore it  goes  down.     All  statues  and  pictures 

41 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

become  tawdry  in  comparison  with  such  a  rich, 
ripe,  glowing,  and  glorious  heart,  clothed  with 
Christlike  character. 

3.     Life's  teachers  also  include  newness  and 
zest.     First,  man    lives   his  life  in  fresh  per- 
sonal experiences.     Then,  by    observation,   he 
repeats  his  life  in  the  career  of  his  children. 
A  third  time  he  joui-neys  around  the  circle,  re- 
experiencing  life  in  that  of  his  grandchildren. 
Then,   because  the  newness  has  passed  away 
and   events    no   longer    stimulate   his    mind, 
death  withdraws  him  from  the  scene  and  enters 
him  in  a  new  school.     Vast  is  the  educational 
value  therefore  attaching  to  the    newness  of 
life.     God  is  so  rich  that  no  day  or  scene  need 
repeat  a  former  one.   The  proverb,  "We  never 
look  upon  the   same   river,"  tells  us  that  all 
things  are  ever  changing,  and  clothes  each  day 
with  fresh  fascination.      "Whilst   I  read  the 
poets,"  said  Emerson,  "I  think  that  nothing 
new  can  be  said  about  morning  and  evening  ; 
but  when  I  see  the  day  break  I  am  not  reminded 
of  the  Homeric  and  Chaucerian  pictures.     I  am 
cheered  by  the  moist,   warm,  glittering,  bud- 
ding,  melodious   hour  that  breaks  down    the 
narrow  walls  of  my  soul,  and  extends  its  life 
and  pulsations  to  the  very  horizon." 

Thus,  each  new  day  is  a  new  continent  to  be 
explored.     Each  youth  is  a  new  creature,  full 

42 


Character 

of  delightful  and  mysterious  possibilities. 
Each  brain  comes  clothed  with  its  own  secret, 
having  its  own  orbit,  attaining  its  own  unique 
experience.  Ours  is  a  world  in  which  each 
individual,  each  country,  each  age,  each  day, 
has  a  history  peculiarly  its  own.  This  new- 
ness is  a  perpetual  stimulant  to  curiosity  and 
study.  Gladstone's  recipe  for  never  growing 
old  is,  "Search  out  some  topic  in  nature  or 
life  in  which  you  have  never  hitherto  been  in- 
terested,  and  experience  its  fascinations."  For 
some,  once  a  picture  or  book  has  been  seen, 
the  pleasure  ceases.  Delight  dies  with  famil- 
iarity. Such  persons  look  back  to  the  days  of 
childhood  as  to  the  days  of  wonder  and  happi- 
ness. But  the  man  of  real  vision  ever  beholds 
each  rock,  each  herb  and  flower  with  the  big  eyes 
of  children,  and  with  a  mind  of  perpetual  won- 
der. For  him  the  seed  is  a  fountain  gushing 
with  new  delights.  Every  youth  should  repeat 
the  experience  of  John  Rusk  in.  Such  was  the 
enthusiasm  that  this  author  felt  for  God's 
world,  that  when  he  approached  some  distant 
mountain  or  saw  the  crags  hanging  over  the 
waters,  or  the  clouds  marching  thi'ough  the 
sky,  a  shiver  of  fear,  mingled  with  awe,  set 
him  quivering  with  joy — such  joy  as  the  artist 
pupil  feels  in  the  presence  of  his  noble  master, 
such  a  kindling  of  mind  and  heart  as  Dante  felt 

43 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

on  approaching  his  Beatrice.  Phillips  Brooks 
grew  happier  as  he  grew  older,  and  at  fifty- 
seven  he  said  :  "Life  seems  a  feast  in  which 
God  keeps  the  best  wine  until  the  last."  Up 
to  the  very  end  the  great  preacher  grew  by 
leaps  and  bounds,  because  he  never  lost  that 
enthusiasm  for  life  that  makes  zest  and  new- 
ness among  life's  best  teachers. 

4.  By  a  strange  paradox  men  are  taught  by 
monotony  as  well  as  by  newness.  Ours  is  a 
world  where  the  words,  ' '  Blessed  be  drudgery, " 
are  full  of  meaning.  Culture  and  character 
come  not  through  consuming  excitements  nor 
the  whii'l  of  pleasui'es.  The  granai'y  is  filled,  not 
by  the  thunderous  forces  that  appeal  to  the 
eye  and  ear,  but  by  the  secret,  invisible 
agents;  the  silent  energies,  the  mighty  mon- 
archs  hidden  in  roots  and  in  seeds.  What 
rioting  storms  cannot  do  is  done  by  the  silent 
sap  and  sunshine.  All  the  fundamental  quali- 
ties called  patience,  perseverance,  courage, 
fidelity,  are  the  gains  of  drudgery.  Character 
comes  with  commonplaces.  Greatness  is 
through  tasks  that  have  become  insipid,  and  by 
duties  that  are  irksome.  The  treadmill  is  a  di- 
vine teacher.  He  who  shovels  sand  year  in  and 
year  out  needs  not  our  pity,  for,  say  what  we 
will,  each  one  has  his  own  sand  heap.  The 
greatest  mind,   fulfilling  its  career,   once  the 

44 


Character 

freshness  has  worn  off,  pursues  a  hackneyed 
task  and  finds  the  duties  irksome.  It  is 
better  so.  The  voices  of  earth  are  dulled  that 
we  may  hear  the  whisper  of  God.  The  earth's 
colors  are  toned  down  that  we  may  see  things 
invisible. 

All  great  men  have  achieved  their  work 
through  monotony.  Ptolemy  was  one  of  the 
founders  of  astronomy  because  he  dwelt  on  a 
plain  of  sand,  where  the  horizon  held  not  one 
vine-clad  hill  nor  alluring  vista.  Wearying  of 
the  yellow  sea,  his  thought  journeyed  along 
the  heavenly  highway  and  threaded  the  gauzy 
maze,  until  the  man  became  immortal.  Moses 
became  the  greatest  of  jurists,  because  during 
the  forty  years  when  his  mind  was  creative 
and  at  its  best,  he  dwelt  amid  the  solitude  of 
the  sandhills  around  Sinai,  and  was  free  for 
intellectual  and  moral  life.  Lecky  says: 
"The  virtue  of  the  stoic  which  arose  trium- 
phant over  adversity  always  withered  under 
degradation."  That  is,  man  is  stimulated  by 
the  crisis;  conflict  provokes  heroism,  persecu- 
tion lends  strength.  But,  denied  the  exigency 
of  a  great  trial,  men  who  seemed  grand  fall 
all  to  pieces.  Triumphant  in  adversity,  men 
are  vanquished  by  drudgery.  Thus,  many  men 
achieve  reputations  when  all  eyes  are  focused 
upon  them,  who  fall   into  petty  worthlessness 

45 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

amid  obscurity  and  monotony.  Life's  crown- 
ing victory  belongs  to  those  who  have  won  no 
brilliant  battle,  suffered  no  crushing  wrong; 
who  have  figured  in  no  great  drama,  whose 
sphere  was  obscure,  but  who  have  loved  great 
principles  midst  small  duties,  nourished  sublime 
hopes  amid  vulgar  cares,  and  illustrated  eter- 
nal principles  in  trifles. 

5.  Responsibility  is  another  teacher  of  right- 
eousness. God  educates  men  by  casting  them 
upon  their  own  resoui'ces.  Man  learns  to 
swim  by  being  tossed  into  life's  maelstrom 
and  left  to  make  his  way  ashore.  No  youth 
can  learn  to  sail  his  life-craft  in  a  lake  seques- 
tered and  sheltered  from  all  storms,  where 
other  vessels  never  come.  Skill  comes  through 
sailino;  one's  craft  amidst  rocks  and  bars  and 
opposing  fleets,  amidst  storms  and  whirls  and 
counter  currents.  English  literature  has  a 
proverb  about  the  incapacity  of  rich  men's 
sons.  The  rich  man  himself  became  mighty 
because  he  began  in  poverty,  had  no  hand  to 
help  him  forward,  and  many  hands  to  hold  him 
back.  After  long  wrestling  with  opposing 
forces  he  compacted  within  himself  the 
strength  and  foresight,  the  frugality  and  wis- 
dom of  a  score  of  ordinai'y  men.  The  school 
of  hard  knocks  made  him  a  man  of  might. 
But  his  son,  cradled  in  a  soft  nest,  sheltered 

46 


Character 

from  every  harsh  wind,  loving  ease  more  than 
industry,  is  in  danger  of  coming  up  without 
insight  into  the  secrets  of  his  profession  or 
industry. 

Responsibility  alone  drives  man  to  toil  and 
brings  out  his  best  gifts.  For  this  reason  the 
pensions  given  in  England  are  said  to  have 
ruined  their  men  of  genius.  Johnson  wrote 
his  immortal  Rasselas  to  raise  money  to  buy 
his  mother's  coffin.  Hunger  and  pain  drove 
Lee  to  the  invention  of  his  loom.  Left  a 
widow  with  a  family  to  support,  in  mid-life 
Mrs.  Trollope  took  to  authorship  and  wrote  a 
score  of  volumes.  The  most  piteous  tragedy 
in  English  literature  is  that  of  Coleridge. 
Wordsworth  called  him  the  most  myriad- 
minded  man  since  Shakespeare,  and  Lamb 
thought  him  "an  archangel  slightly  dam- 
aged." The  generosity  of  his  friends  gave 
Coleridge  a  home  and  all  its  comforts  without 
the  necessity  of  toil.  But  ease  and  lack  of  re- 
sponsibility, with  opium,  wrecked  him.  Hun- 
ger and  want  would  have  made  him  more 
famous  and  enriched  all  English  literature. 
It  is  responsibility  that  teaches  caution,  fore- 
sight, prudence,  courage,  and  turns  feeblings 
into  giants. 

6.  The  contrasts  and  extremes  of  life  do 
much  to  shape  character.     Ours  is  a  world  that 

47 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

moves  from  light  to  dark,  from  heat  to  cold, 
from  summer  to  winter.  On  the  crest  to-day, 
the  hero  is  in  the  trough  to-morrow.  David,  but 
yesterday  a  shepherd  boy  with  his  harp,  and 
to-day  dwelling  in  the  King's  palace;  Byron, 
yesterday  unknown,  waking  to-morrow  to 
find  himself  famous;  men  yesterday  possessed 
of  plenty,  to-day  passing  into  penury — these 
illustrate  the  extremes  of  life.  These  con- 
trasts are  as  striking  as  those  we  find  on  the 
sunny  slopes  of  the  Alps.  There  the  foot- 
hills are  covered  with  vineyards,  while  the 
summits  have  everlasting  snow,  while  in  Ice- 
land the  hot  springs  gush  close  beside  the 
glaciers.  Thus  man  flits  on  between  light  and 
dark.  During  his  few  years,  and  brief,  he 
experiences  many  reverses.  It  is  hard  for  the 
leader  to  drop  back  into  the  ranks.  It  is  not 
easy  for  him  who  hath  led  a  movement  to  its 
success  to  see  his  laurels  fall  leaf  by  leaf. 
After  a  long  and  dangerous  service  men 
grown  old  and  gray  are  succeeded  by  the 
youth  to  whom  society  owes  no  debt.  Thus 
man  journeys  from  strength  to  invalidism,  from 
prosperity  to  adversity,  from  joy  to  sorrow, 
or  goes  from  misery  to  happiness,  from  defeat 
to  victory. 

Not  one  single  person  but  sooner  or  later  is 
tested  by  these  alterations.     God  sends  pros- 

48 


Character 

perity  to  bring  character  to  its  highest  levels. 
It  is  an  error  to  suppose  that  the  higher  man- 
hood flourishes  in  extreme  poverty.  It  has 
been  beautifully  said  that  "  humility  is  never 
so  lovely  as  when  arrayed  in  scarlet ;  modera- 
tion is  never  so  impressive  as  when  it  sits  at 
banquets  ;  simplicity  is  never  so  delightful  as 
when  it  dwells  amidst  magnificence  ;  purity 
is  never  so  divine  as  when  its  unsullied  robes 
are  worn  in  a  king's  palace  ;  gentleness  is 
never  so  touching  as  when  it  exists  in  the 
powerful.  When  men  combine  gold  and  good- 
ness, greatness  and  godliness,  genius  and 
graces,  human  nature  is  at  its  best."  On 
the  other  hand,  adversity  is  a  supplement, 
making  up  what  prosperity  lacks.  The  very 
abundance  of  Christmas  gifts  ofttimes  causes 
children  to  forget  the  parents  who  gave  them. 
Some  are  adorned  by  prosperity  as  mountains 
are  adorned  with  rich  forests.  Others  stand 
forth  with  the  bareness,  but  also  with  the 
grandeur  and  enduring  strength,  of  Alpine 
mountains.  Character  is  like  every  other 
structure — nothing  tests  it  like  extremes. 

7.  But  when  friendship  and  love  have  en- 
riched man,  deepened  all  the  secret  springs  of 
his  being,  when  grief  hath  refined  and  suffering 
mellowed  him,  then  God  sends  the  ideals  to  stim- 
\)ilat«  meji  to  new  achievements.     An  ideal  is 

49 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

a  pattern  or  plan  held  up  before  the  man's  eye 
for  imitation,  realization  and  guidance.  In 
the  heart's  innermost  temple  of  silence, 
whither  neither  friend  nor  enemy  may  ever 
come,  there  the  soul  unveils  its  secret  ideal. 
The  pattern  there  erected  at  once  proclaims 
what  man  is  and  prophesies  what  he  shall  be. 
"By  no  political  alchemy,"  says  Herbert  Spen- 
cer, "can  we  get  golden  conduct  out  of  leaden 
instincts."  Therefore  must  that  pattern  held 
up  before  the  mind's  eye  be  of  the  highest  and 
purest.  The  legend  tells  us  of  the  master's 
apprentice,  who,  from  the  small  bits  of  glass 
that  had  been  thrown  away  constructed  a 
window  of  surpassing  loveliness.  The  ideal 
held  up  before  the  boy's  mind  organized  and 
brought  together  these  broken  bits,  and 
wrought  them  into  lines  of  perfect  beauty. 
Thus  by  his  inner  aspirations,  man  lives  and 
builds.  The  vision  before  reason  reveals  to  the 
toiler  a  better  tool  or  law  or  reform,  and  the 
realization  of  these  visions  gives  social  prog- 
ress. The  vision  of  conscience  reveals  new 
possibilities  of  character,  and  these  give  duty. 
The  vision  of  the  heart  reveals  new  possibili- 
ties of  friendship,  and  these  give  the  home. 
As  the  sun  standing  upon  the  horizon  orbs  it- 
self, first  in  each  dewdrop,  and  afterward  lifts 
the  whole  earth  forward,  sp  the  ideal  repeats 

50 


Character 

itself,  first  in  the  individual  heart,  and  after- 
ward lifts  all  society  forward.  Thus  unto  man 
slowly  building  up  his  character  comes  the  su- 
preme ideal,  when  Jesus  Christ  stands  forth 
fully  revealed  in  His  splendor.  He  is  no  empty 
abstraction,  no  bloodless  theory, but  bone  of  our 
bone,  brother  of  our  own  body  and  breath,  yet 
marred  by  no  weakness,  scarred  by  no  sin, 
tossing  back  temptations  as  some  Gibraltar 
tosses  back  the  sea's  billows  and  the  bits  of 
drift-wood.  Strong,  He  subdued  His  strength 
in  the  day  of  battle,  and  bore  Himself 
like  iron.  Yet  He  was  so  gentle  that  His 
white  hand  felt  the  fall  of  the  rose  leaf,  while 
He  inflected  His  gianthood  to  the  needs  of  the 
little  child.  Nor  could  He  be  holden  of  the 
bands  of  death,  for  He  clove  a  pathway  through 
the  grave,  and  made  death's  night  to  shine 
like  the  day.  "I  have  but  one  passion,"  said 
Tholuck.  "It  is  He!  it  is  He!"  As  Shake- 
speare first  reveals  to  the  young  poet  his  real 
riches  of  imagination,  as  Raphael  first  unveils 
to  the  young  artist  the  possibilities  of  color, 
so  man  knows  not  his  infinite  capabilities  until 
Jesus  Christ  stands  forth  in  aM  His  untroubled 
splendor.  Having  Him,  man  has  not  only  his 
Teacher  and  Saviour,  but  also  his  Master  and 
Model,  fulfilling  all  the  needs  of  the  highest 
manhood  and  the  noblest  character. 

51 


Aspirations  and  Ideals 


•'  As  some  most  pure  and  noble  face, 

Seen  in  the  thronged  and  hurrying  street, 
Sheds  o'er  the  world  a  sudden  grace, 

A  flying  odor  sweet, 
Then  passing  leaves  the  cheated  sense 
Balked  with  a  phantom  excellence. 

'  So  in  our  soul,  the  visions  rise 

Of  that  fair  life  we  never  led; 
They  flash  a  splendor  past  our  eyes, 

We  start,  and  they  are  fled ; 
They  pass  and  leave  us  with  blank  gaze, 
Resigned  to  our  ignoble  days." 

— The  Fitgttive  Ideal,  by  Wm.  Watson. 

•'  Contentment  and  aspiration  are  in  every  true 
man's  life." 

"  No  bird  can  race  in  the  great  blue  sky  against  a 
noble  soul.  The  eagle's  wing  is  slow  compared  with 
the  flight  of  hope  and  love." — Sioing. 

"  We  flgure  to  ourselves 
The  thing  we  like,  and  then  we  build  it  up — 
As  chance  will  have  it,  on  the  rock  or  sand ; 
For  time  is  tired  of  wandering  o'er  the  world, 
And  home-bound  fancy  runs  her  bark  ashore." 

— Taylor, 


Ill 
Aspirations  and  Ideals. 

MAN  is  a  pilgrim  journeying  toward  the  new 
and  beautiful  city  of  the  Ideal.  Aspira- 
tion, not  contentment,  is  the  law  of  his  life. 
To-day's  triumph  dictates  new  struggles  to- 
morrow. The  youth  flushed  with  success  may 
couch  down  in  the  tent  of  satisfaction  for  one 
night  only;  when  the  morning  comes  he  must 
fold  his  tent  and  push  on  toward  some  new 
achievement.  That  man  is  ready  for  his 
burial  robes  who  lets  his  present  laurels  sat- 
isfy him.  God  has  crowded  the  world  with  an- 
tidotes to  contentment  and  with  stimulants  to 
progress.  The  world  is  not  built  for  sluggards. 
The  earth  is  like  a  road,  a  poor  place  for  sleep- 
ing in,  a  good  thing  to  travel  over.  The  world  is 
like  a  forge,  unfit  for  residence,  but  good  for 
putting  temper  in  a  warrior's  sword.  Life  is 
built  for  waking  up  dull  men,  making  lazy 
men  unhappy,  and  the  low-flying  miserable. 
When  other  incitements  fail,  fear  and  remorse 
following  behind  scourge  men  forward;  but 
ideals   in   front   are   the   chief   stimulants   to 

55 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

growth.  Each  morning,  waking,  the  soul  sees 
the  ideal  man  one  ought  to  be  rising  in 
splendor  to  shame  the  man  one  is.  Columbus 
was  tempted  forward  by  the  floating  branches, 
the  drifting  weeds,  the  strange  birds,  unto  the 
new  world  rich  in  tropic-treasure.  So  by 
aspirations  and  ideals  God  lures  men  forward 
unto  the  soul's  undiscovered  country.  In  the 
long  ago  the  star  moving  on  before  guided  the 
wise  men  of  the  East  to  the  manger  where  the 
young  child  lay;  and  still  in  man's  night  God 
hangs  aspirations — stars  for  guiding  men  away 
from  the  slough  of  content  to  the  hills  of  para- 
dise. The  soul  huncjers  for  somethingr  vast,  and 
ideals  lure  to  the  long  voyage,  the  distant  har- 
bor, and  are  the  stars  by  which  the  pilgrim 
shapes  his  course. 

Life's  great  teachers  are  friendship,  occupa- 
tion, travel,  books,  marriage,  and  chiefly  heart- 
hungers.  These  yearnings  within  are  the 
springs  of  all  man's  progress  without.  Some- 
times philosophers  say  that  the  history  of  civ- 
ilization is  the  history  of  great  men.  Confess- 
ing this,  let  us  go  on  and  note  that  the  his- 
tory of  all  great  men  is  the  history  of  their 
ideal  hours,  realized  in  conduct  and  character. 
Waking  at  midnight  in  his  bleak  garret,  the 
vision  splendid  rose  before  John  Milton.  The 
boy  of  twelve  would  fain  write  a  poem  that  the 

56 


Aspirations  and  Ideals 

world  would  not  willingly  let  die.  He  knew 
that  whoever  would  write  a  heroic  poem  must 
first  live  a  heroic  life.  From  that  hour  the 
youth  followed  the  ideal  that  led  him  on,  pur- 
suing knowledge  unceasingly  for  seven  years, 
never  closing  book  before  midnight,  leaving 
Cambridge  with  the  approbation  of  the  good, 
and  without  stain  or  spot  upon  his  life. 
Afterward,  making  a  pilgrimage  to  Italy  for 
study  in  that  land  of  song  and  story,  he  heard 
of  the  civil  wars  in  England,  and  at  once  re- 
turned, putting  away  his  ambition  for  culture 
because  he  thought  it  base  to  be  traveling  in 
ease  and  safety  abroad  while  his  fellow-citi- 
zens were  fighting  for  liberty  at  home.  When 
he  resisted  a  brutal  soldier's  attack  who  lifted 
his  sword  to  say,  "I  have  power  to  kill  you," 
the  scholar  replied:  "And  I  have  power  to  be 
killed  and  to  despise  my  murderer."  Growing 
old  and  blind,  and  falling  upon  evil  days  and 
tongues,  out  of  his  heroic  life  he  wrote  his  im- 
mortal poem.  Dying,  he  still  pursued  his 
ideal,  for  moving  into  the  valley  and  shadow, 
the  blind  poet  whispered;  "Still  guides  the 
heavenly  -vision!  " 

Did  men  but  know  it,  this  is  the  secret  of  all 
heroic  greatness.  Here  is  that  matchless  old 
Greek,  Socrates,  sitting  in  the  prison  talking 
with  his  friends  of  death  and  immortality,  of  the 

57 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

truth  and  beauty  he  hopes  to   find  beyond. 
With  one  hand  he  rubs  his  leg,  chafed  by  the 
harsh  fetters,  with  the  other  he  holds  the  cup 
of  poison.     When  the  sun  touched  the  horizon 
he  took  the  cup  of  death  from  the  jailer's  hand, 
and  with  shining  face  went  down  into  the  val- 
ley, and  midst  the  thick  shadows  passed  forever 
from    mortal    sight,   still  pursuing  his  vision 
splendid.     And  here  is  that  pure-white  martyr 
girl,  painted  by  Millais,    staked  down  in  the 
sea  midst  the  rising  tide,  but  looking  toward 
the  open  sky,  with  a    great,  sweet  light  upon 
her    face.     Here    is    Luther    surrounded    by 
scowling  soldiers  and  hungry,  wolfish  priests, 
looking  upward  and  then  flinging  out  his  chal- 
lenge,   "I  cannot  and  I  will  not  recant,  God 
help  me."      Here  is  John  Brown,   with  body 
all  pierced  with  bullets  and  grievously  soi'e, 
stooping     to   kiss  the    child    as    he    went  on 
to  the  gallows,   with  heart  as  high   as  on  his 
wedding  day.    And  here  is  that  Christian  nurse 
who  followed  the  line  of  battle  close  up  to  the 
rifle-pits,  and  kindled  her  fire  and  prepared  hot 
drinks  for  dying  men ;  who,  when  asked  by  the 
colonel  who  told  her  to  build  those  fires,  made 
answer:     "God    Almighty,    sir!"  and    went 
right  on  to  fulfill  her  vision.     And    here    is 
Livingstone,  with  his  grand   craggy  head  and 
deep-set  eyes,  found  in  the  heart  of   Africa, 

58 


Aspirations  and  Ideals 

dead  beside  his  couch,  with  ink  scarcely  dry  on 
words  that  interpreted  his  vision:  "God  bless 
all  men  who  in  any  way  help  to  heal  this  open 
sore  of  the  world!"  Chiefly,  there  is  Christ, 
who,  from  the  hour  when  the  star  stayed  by  His 
manger  in  Bethlehem,  and  the  light  ne'er  seen 
on  land  or  sea  shone  on  the  luminous  and 
transfigured  mount,  on  to  the  day  of  His 
uplifted  cross,  ever  followed  the  divine  vision 
that  brought  Him  at  last  to  Olivet,  to  the  open 
sky,  the  ascending  cloud,  the  welcoming  heav- 
ens. 

But  God,  who  hath  appointed  visions  unto  great 
men,  doth  set  each  lesser  human  life  between  its 
dream  and  its  task.  Deep  heart-hungers  are 
quickened  within  the  people,  and  then  some 
patriot,  reformer,  or  hero,  is  raised  up  to  feed 
the  aspiration.  Afterward  history  stores  up 
these  noble  achievements  of  yesterday  as  soul 
food  for  to  day.  The  heart,  like  the  body, 
needs  nourishment,  and  finds  it  in  the  highest 
deeds  and  best  qualities  of  those  who  have  gone 
before.  Thus  the  artist  pupil  is  fed  by  his 
great  master.  The  young  soldier  emulates  his 
brave  general.  The  patriot  is  inspired  by  his 
heroic  chief.  History  records  the  deeds  of 
noble  men,  not  for  decorating  her  pages,  but 
for  strengthening  the  generations  that  come 
after.     The  measure  of  a  nation's  civilization  is 

59 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

the  number  of  heroes  it  has  had,  whose  qual- 
ities have  been  harvested  for  children  and 
youth. 

Full  oft   one  hero   has    transformed  a  peo- 
ple.    The  blind  bard  singing  through  the  vil- 
lages of  Greece  met  a  rude  and  simple  folk. 
But  Homer  opened  up  a  gallery  in  the  clouds, 
and  there  unveiled  Achilles  as  the  ideal  Greek. 
It  became  the  ambition  of  every  Athenian  boy 
to  fix  the  Iliad  in  his  mind  and  repeat  Achilles 
in  his  heart  and  life.      Soon  the  Achilles  in  the 
sky  looked  down  upon  20,000  young  Achilles 
walking  through  the  streets    beneath.     With 
what   admiration    do    men    recall    the    intel- 
lectual achievements  of   Athens!     What  tem- 
ples,    and    v.'hat    statues    in    them!       What 
orators  and  eloquence!     What  dramas!     What 
lyric  poems!  What  philosophers!  Yet  one  ideal 
man  who  never  lived,  save  in  a  poet's  vision, 
turned   rude    tribes    into    intellectual    giants. 
Thus  each  nation  hungers  for  heroes.      When  it 
has  none  God  sends  poets  to  invent  them  as 
soul  food  for  the  nation's  youth.     The  best  gift 
to  a  people  is  not  vineyards  nor  overflowing 
granaries,  nor  thronged  harbors,  nor  rich  fleets, 
but  a  good  man  and  great,  whose  example  and 
influence  repeat  greatness  in  all  the  people.     As 
the  planet  hanging  above  our  earth  lifts  the 
sea  in  tidal  waves,  so   God    hangs    illustrious 

60 


Aspirations  and  Ideals 

men  in  the  sky  for   raining  down   their  rich 
treasure  upon  society. 

Moreover,  it  is  the  number  and  kind  of  his 
aspirations  that  determine  a  man's  place  in  the 
scale  of  manhood.  Lowest  of  all  is  that  great 
under  class  of  pulseless  men,  content  to  creep, 
and  without  thought  of  wings  for  rising. 
Mere  drifters  are  they,  creatures  of  circum- 
stance, indifferently  remaining  where  birth  or 
events  have  started  them.  Having  food  and 
raiment,  therewith  they  are  content.  No  in- 
spirations fire  them,  no  ideals  rebuke  them,  no 
visions  of  possible  excellence  or  advancement 
smite  their  vulgar  contentment.  Like  dead 
leaves  swept  forward  upon  the  current,  these 
men  drift  through  life.  Not  really  bad,  they 
are  but  indifferently  good,  and  therefore  are 
the  material  out  of  which  vicious  men  ai*e  made. 
In  malarial  regions,  physicians  say,  men  of 
overflowing  health  are  safe  because  the  abound- 
ing vitality  within  crowds  back  the  poison  in 
the  outer  air,  while  men  who  live  on  the  border 
line  between  good  health  and  ill,  furnish  the 
conditions  for  fevers  that  consume  away  the 
life.  Similarly,  men  who  live  an  indifferent, 
supine  life,  with  no  impulses  upward,  are  ex- 
posed to  evil  and  become  a  constant  menace  to 
society. 

6i 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

Hio-her  in  the  scale  of  manhood  are  the  men 
of  intermittent  aspirations.  A  traveler  may 
journey  forward  guided  by  the  light  of  the 
perpetual  sun,  or  he  may  travel  by  night  midst 
a  thunder-storm,  when  the  sole  light  is  an  oc- 
casional flash  of  lightning,  revealing  the  path 
here  and  the  chasm  there.  But  once  the  light- 
ning has  passed  the  darkness  is  thicker  than 
before.  And  to  men  come  luminous  hours,  re- 
buking the  common  life.  Then  does  the  soul 
revolt  from  any  evil  thought  and  thing  and 
loner  for  all  that  is  God-like  in  character,  for 

to 

honor  and  purity,  for  valor  and  courage,   for 
fidelity  to  the  finer  convictions  deep  hidden  in 
the  soul's  secret  recesses.     What  heroes    ai-e 
these — in  the  vision  hour  !     With  what  forti- 
tude do  these  soldiers  bear  up  under  blows — 
when  the  battle  is  still  in  the  future  1     But  once 
the  conflict  comes,  their  courage  goes!     On  a 
winter's  morning    the  frost  upon  the  window 
pane  shapes  forth  trees,  houses,  thrones,  castles, 
cities,   but  these    are    only    frost.     So  before 
the  mind  the  imagination  hangs  pictures  of  the 
glory  and  grandeur  and    God-likeness  of  the 
higher    life,    but    one    breath    of    temptation 
proves  their  evanescence.      Better,   however, 
these  intermittent  ideals  than  uninterrupted 
supineness  and  contentment.     But,  best  of  all, 
that  third  type  of  men  who  realize  in  daily  life 

62 


Aspirations  and  Ideals 

their  luminous  hours,  and  transmute  their 
ideals  into  conduct  and  character.  These  are 
the  soul-architects  who  build  their  thoughts 
and  deeds  into  a  plan;  who  travel  forward, 
not  aimlessly,  but  toward  a  destination;  who 
sail,  not  any  whither,  but  toward  a  port;  who 
steer,  not  by  the  clouds,  but  by  the  fixed  stars. 
High  in  the  scale  of  manhood  these  who  cease- 
lessly aspire  toward  life's  great  Exemplar. 

Consider  the  use  of  the  soul's  aspirations. 
Ideals  redeem  life  from  drudgery.  Four-fifths 
of  the  human  race  are  so  overbodied  and  under- 
brained  that  the  mind  is  exhausted  in  securing 
provision  for  hunger  and  raiment.  No  to- 
morrow but  may  bring  men  to  sore  want. 
Poverty  narrows  life  into  a  treadmill  existence. 
Multitudes  of  necessity  toil  in  the  stithy  and  deep 
mine.  Multitudes  must  accustom  themselves  to 
odors  offensive  to  the  nostril.  Men  toil  from 
morning  till  night  midst  the  din  of  machinery 
from  which  the  ear  revolts.  Myriads  dig  and 
delve,  and  scorn  their  toil.  He  who  spends  all 
his  years  sliding  pins  into  a  paper,  finds  his 
growth  in  manhood  threatened.  Others  are 
stranded  midway  in  life.  Recently  the  test 
exhibition  of  a  machine  was  successful,  and 
those  present  gave  the  inventor  heartiest  con- 
gratulations. But  one  man  was  present  whose 
face  was    drawn  with    pain,  and  whose  eyeg 

63 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

were  wet  with  tears.  Explaining  his  emotion 
to  a  questioner  he  said :  < '  One  hour  ago  I  en- 
tered this  room  a  skilled  workman  ;  this  ma- 
chine sends  me  out  that  door  a  common  laborer. 
For  years  I  have  been  earning  five  dollars  a  day 
as  an  expert  machinist.  By  economy  I  hoped  to 
educate  my  children  into  a  higher  sphere,  but 
now  my  every  hope  is  ruined."  Life  is  crowded 
with  these  disappointments.  A  journey  among 
men  is  like  a  journey  through  a  harvest  field 
after  a  hailstorm  has  flailed  off  all  the  buds  and 
leaves,  and  pounded  the  young  corn  into  the 
ground.  Fulfilling  such  a  life,  men  need  to  be 
saved  by  hopes  and  aspirations.  Then  God 
sends  visions  in  to  give  men  wing -room,  and 
lift  them  into  the  realm  of  restfulness.  Some 
hope  rises  to  break  the  thrall  of  life.  The  soul 
rises  like  a  songbird  in  the  sky. 

Disappointed  men  find  that  food  itself  is  not 
so  sv/eet  as  dreams.  The  seamstress  toiling  in 
the  attic  stitches  hope  in  with  each  thread,  and 
dreams  of  some  knight  coming  to  lift  her  out 
of  poverty,  and  her  reverie  mocks  and  con- 
sumes her  woe.  The  laborer  digging  in  his 
ditch  sweetens  his  toil  and  rests  his  weariness 
by  the  dream  of  the  humble  home  labor  and 
love  will  some  day  build.  Many  in  middle  life,  ^' 
when  it  is  too  late,  find  themselves  in  the  wrong 
occupation,  but  maintain  their  usefulness  and 

64 


Aspirations  and  Ideals 

happiness  by  surrounding  themselves  with  the  £^ 
thoughts  of  the  career  they  love  and  beyond  may 
yet  fulfill.  How  does  imagination  enterprise 
everywhither!  By  it  what  ships  are  built,  what 
lands  are  explored,  what  armies  are  led,  what 
thrones  are  erected  in  thought!  When  the  seed 
sprang  up  in  the  prison  cell,  the  scholar  confined 
there  enlarged  the  little  plant  until  in  his  mind  it 
became  a  vast  forest,  where  all  flowers  bloomed 
and  spiced  shrubs  grew  and  birds  sang,  and 
where  brooks  gurgled  such  music  as  never  fell 
on  mortal  ear.  Innumerable  men  endure  by 
seeing  things  invisible.  They  retire  from  the 
vexations  and  disappointments  without  to  their 
hidden-vision  life.  Their  inner  thoughts  con- 
trast strangely  with  the  outer  fact  and  life. 
During  the  Middle  Ages,  when  persecution 
broke  out  against  the  Jews,  these  merchants 
were  oppressed  and  robbed,  and  saved  them- 
selves from  destruction  only  by  living  a 
squalid  life  outside  and  a  princely  life  in  hid- 
den quarters.  It  has  been  said:  "You  might 
follow  an  old  merchant,  spotted  and  stained 
with  all  the  squalor  of  beggary  upon  him, 
through  byways  foul  to  the  feet  and  offensive 
to  every  sense,  and  through  some  narrow  lane 
enter  what  looks  like  the  entrance  of  an  ill- 
kept  stable.  Thence  opens  out  a  squalid  hall 
of   noisome  odors.     But  ascending  the  steps 

65         ' 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

you  come  to  a  secret  passage,  when,  opening 
the  door,  you  are  blinded  with  the  brilliancy 
that  bursts  upon  you.  You  are  in  the  palace 
of  a  prince.  The  walls  are  covered  with 
adornments.  Rare  tapestries  hang  upon  the 
walls.  The  dishes  that  bespread  the  table  are 
of  silver  and  gold,  and  the  household,  who 
hasten  to  receive  the  parent  and  strip  off  his 
outward  disguise,  are  themselves  arrayed  like 
king's  children."  Thus  the  ideals  make  a 
great  difference  between  the  man  without  and 
the  hidden  life  within.  Seeing  unseen  things, 
the  heart  sings  while  the  hand  works.  The 
vision  above  lifts  the  life  out  of  fatigue  into  the 
realm  of  joy  and  restfulness. 

It  is  also  the  office  of  these  divine  ideals  to 
rebuke  the  lower  physical  life,  and  smite  each 
sordid,  selfish  purpose.  The  vision  hour  is  the 
natural  enemy  of  the  vulgar  mood.  Men  be- 
gin life  with  the  high  purpose  of  living  nobly, 
generously,  openly.  Full  of  the  choicest 
aspirations,  hungering  for  the  highest  things, 
the  youth  enters  triumphantly  upon  the  path- 
way of  life.  But  journeying  forward  he  meets 
conflict  and  strife,  envy  and  jealousy,  dis- 
appointment and  defeat.  He  finds  it  hard  to 
live  up  to  the  level  of  his  best  moods.  Self- 
interest  biases  his  judgment.  Greed  bribes 
reason.     Pride  leads  hiim  astray.     Selfishness 

66 


Aspirations  and  Ideals 

tempts    him    to   violate    his    finer    self.     The 
struggle  to  maintain  his  ideals  is  like  a  strug- 
gle for  life  itself.      Many,  alas!   after  a    short, 
sharp  conflict,  give  up   the  warfare  and  break 
faith  and  fealty  with  the  deeper  convictions. 
They  quench  the  light  that  shone  afar  off  to 
beckon    and    cheer     them     on.       Persuading 
themselves  that  the  ideal  life  is  impracticable, 
they  strike  an  average  between  their  highest 
moods  and  their  low-flying  hours.     Then  is  the 
luster  of  life  all  dimmed,  and  the  soul  is  like 
a  noble  mansion   in  the  morning  after  some 
banquet  or  reception.     In  the  evening,  when 
making  ready  for  the  brilliant  feast,   all    the 
house  is  illuminated.    Each  curio  is  in  its  niche. 
The  harp  is  in  its  place.     The  air  is  laden  with 
the  perfume  of  roses.     But  when  the  morning 
comes,    how   vast   is    the   change!     The   win- 
dows are  darkened  and  the  halls  deserted;  the 
wax  tapers  have  burned  to  the  socket,  or  flicker 
out   in    smoke;    the  flowers,   scorched  by  the 
heated  air,  have  shriveled  and  fallen,  and  in  the 
banquet-room  only  the  ' '  broken  meats  "  remain. 
Gone  is  all  the  glory  of  the  feast!    Thus,  when 
men  lay  aside  their  heroic  ideals  and  bury  their 
visions,  the  luster  of  life  departs,  and  its  beauty 
perishes.     Then  it  is  that  God   sends  in   the 
heavenly  vision  to  rebuke  the  poorer,  sensuous 
life  and  man's  material  mood.     Above  the  life 

67 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

that  is,  God  hangs  the  glory,  and  grandeur, 
and  purity  of  the  life  that  might  be,  and  the 
soul  looking  up  scorns  the  lower  things,  and 
hungers  and  thirsts  for  truth  and  purity. 
Then  man  comes  to  himself  again,  and  makes 
his  way  back  to  his  Father's  side. 

Moreover,  these  vision  hours  come  to  men  to 
give  them  hints  and  gleams  of  what  they  shall 
be  when  time  and  God's  resources  have 
wrought  their  purpose  of  strength  and  beauty 
upon  the  soul.  Man  is  born  a  long  way  from 
himself  and  needs  to  see  the  end  toward  which 
he  moves.  He  has  a  body  and  uses  a  lower 
life,  but  man  is  w^hat  he  is  in  his  best  hours 
and  most  exalted  moods.  The  measure  of 
strength  in  any  living  thing  is  its  highest 
faculty.  The  strength  of  the  deer  is  swift- 
ness, of  a  lion  strength ;  but  to  the  power  of 
the  foot  the  eagle  adds  wings,  and  therefore  is 
praised  for  its  swift  flight.  To  the  wing 
the  bee  adds  genius  for  building  with  geomet- 
ric skill,  and  its  praise  lies  in  its  rare  intelli- 
gence. Thus  man  also  is  to  be  measured  by  his 
highest  faculty,  in  that  he  has  power  to  see 
things  unseen  and  work  in  realms  invisible. 
We  are  told  that  Cicero  had  three  summer  villas 
and  a  winter  residence,  but  he  prided  himself 
not  upon  his  wealth,  but  upon  his  oratory  and  elo- 
quence.    The  grand  old  statesman  of  England 

68 


Aspirations  and  Ideals 

has  skill  for  lifting  the  axe  upon  the  tall  trees, 
but  he  glories  in  his  skill  in  statecraft.  In- 
cidentally man  reaps  treasures  from  the  fields, 
finds  riches  in  the  forests,  and  wealth  in 
the  mountains  ;  yet  his  real  manhood  resides  in 
reason  and  moral  sentiment,  and  the  spirit 
that  saith,  "Our  Father."  For  him  to  live 
for  the  body  is  as  if  one  who  should  inherit  a 
magnificent  palace  were  to  close  the  galleries 
and  libraries  and  splendid  halls,  and  opening 
only  the  eating-room,  there  to  live  and  feed. 

Happy  the  man  who  is  a  good  mechanic  or 
merchant;  but,  alas!  if  he  is  only  that.  Hap- 
py he  who  prospers  toward  the  granary  and 
the  storehouse;  but,  alas!  if  he  is  shrunken 
and  shriveled  toward  the  spiritual  realm.  To 
all  rich  in  physical  treasure,  but  bankrupt  to- 
ward the  unseen  realm,  comes  some  divine  in- 
fluence arousing  discontent.  Then  lower  joys 
are  seen  to  be  uncrowned,  and  sordid  pleasures 
to  have  no  sceptei*.  The  soul  becomes  restless 
and  disappointed  where  once  it  was  contented. 
Looking  afar  off  it  sees  in  its  vision  hours  the 
goodly  estate  to  which  God  shall  some  day 
bring  it.  Here  we  recall  the  peasant's  dream. 
His  humble  cottage  while  he  slept  lifted  up  its 
thatched  roof  and  became  a  noble  mansion. 
The  one  room  and  small  became  many  and  vast. 
The  little  windows  became  arched  and  beauti- 

69 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

ful,  looking  out  upon  vast  estates  all  his.  The 
fireplace  became  an  altar,  o'er  which  hung 
seraphim.  The  chimney  became  a  golden  lad- 
der like  that  which  Jacob  saw,  and  his  chil- 
dren, living  and  dead,  passed  like  angels  bring- 
ing treasure  up  and  down.  And  thus,  while 
the  human  heart  muses  and  dreams,  God  builds 
His  sanctuary  in  the  soul.  The  vision  the 
heart  sees  is  really  the  pattern  by  which  God 
works.  These  fulfill  the  transformation 
wrought  in  the  peasant's  dream. 

Seeking  to  fulfill  their  noble  ministry,  ideals 
have  grievous  enemies.  Among  these  let  us 
include  vanity  and  pride.  When  the  wise  man 
said,  "  Seest  thou  a  man  wise  in  his  own  con- 
ceit, there  is  more  hope  of  a  fool  than  of  him," 
he  indicated  that  he  had  known  fools  cured  of 
their  folly,  but  never  a  vain  man  cured  of  his 
vanity.  Pliny  said:  "It  is  as  hard  to  in- 
struct pride  as  it  is  to  fill  an  empty  bottle 
with  a  cork  in  it."  Some  men  are  constitu- 
tionally vain.  They  think  all  creation  con- 
verges toward  one  center,  and  they  are  that 
center.  The  rash  of  conceit  commonly  runs 
its  course  very  early  in  life.  With  most  it  is 
like  the  prancing  and  gayety  of  an  untrained 
colt  ;  the  cure  is  the  plow  and  harness.  Failure 
also  is  a  curative  agent,  and  so  also  is  success. 
But  chiefly  do  the  ideals  rebuke  conceit.     The 

70 


Aspirations  and  Ideals 

imagination  is  God  in  the  soul,  and  lifting  up 
the  possible  achievement,  the  glory  of  what 
men  may  become,  shames  and  makes  con- 
temptible what  men  are. 

Indolence  and  contentment  also  antagonize 
the  ideals.  Men  bring  together  a  few  gener- 
osities and  integrities.  Soul-misers,  men  gloat 
over  these,  as  money-misers  over  their  shining 
ti'easure,  content  with  the  little  virtue  they 
have.  But  no  man  has  a  right  to  fulfill  a 
stagnant  career;  life  is  not  to  be  a  puddle, 
but  a  sweet  and  I'unning  stream.  No  man  has 
a  right  to  rust  ;  he  is  bound  to  keep  his  tools 
bright  by  usage.  No  man  has  a  right  to  be 
paralyzed  ;  he  is  bound  to  enlarge  and  grow. 
So  ideals  come  in  to  compel  men  to  go  for- 
wai"d.  It  is  easier  to  lie  down  in  a  thorn  hedge, 
or  to  sleep  in  a  field  of  stinging  nettles,  than  for 
a  man  to  abide  contentedly  as  he  is  while  his 
ideals  scourge  him  upward. 

Chiefly  do  the  malign  elements  oppose  the 
ideal  life.  Thei'e  is  enmity  between  vulgarity 
and  visions.  If  anger  comes,  mirth  goes ;  when 
greed  is  in  the  ascendency,  generosity  is  ex- 
pelled. If,  during  a  chorus  of  bii-d -voices  in 
the  forest,  only  the  shadow  of  an  approaching 
hawk  falls  upon  the  ground,  every  sweet  voice 
is  hushed.  Thus,  if  but  one  evil,  hawk-like 
note  is  heard  in  the  heart,  all  the  nobler  joys 

71 


»  A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

and  aspirations  depart.  The  higher  life  is  at 
enmity  with  the  lower,  and  this  war  is  one  of 
extermination. 

Oh,  all  ye  young  hearts!  guard  well  one 
rock  that  is  fatal  to  all  excellence.  If  ever  3'ou 
have  broken  faith  with  your  ideals,  lift  them 
up  and  renew  faith.  Cherish  ideals  as  the  travel- 
er cherishes  the  north  star,  and  keep  the  guiding 
light  pui'e  and  bright  and  high  above  the 
horizon.  The  vessel  may  lose  its  sails  and 
masts,  but  if  it  only  keeps  its  course  and  com- 
pass, the  hai'bor  may  be  reached.  Once  it 
loses  the  star  for  steering  by,  the  voyage  must 
end  in  shipwreck.  For  when  the  heroic 
purpose  goes,  all  life's  glory  departs.  Let 
no  man  think  the  burial  of  a  widow's  son 
the  saddest  sight  on  earth.  Let  men  not 
mourn  over  the  laying  of  the  first  born -under 
the  turf,  as  though  that  were  man's  chief  est  sor- 
row. Earth  knows  no  tragedy  like  the  death 
of  the  soul's  ideals.  Therefore,  battle  for  them 
as  for  life  itself!  The  cynic  may  ridicule 
them,  because,  having  lost  his  own  purity  and 
truth,  he  naturally  thinks  that  none  are  pure 
or  true;  but  wise  men  will  take  counsel  of  as- 
pirations and  ideals.  Even  low  things  have 
power  for  incitement.  No  dead  tree  in  the 
forest  so  unsightly  but  that  some  gener- 
ous woodbine  will  wrap  a  robe  of  beauty  about 

72 


Aspirations  and  Ideals 

its  nakedness.  No  cellar  so  dark  but  if 
there  is  a  fissure  through  which  the  sunlight 
falls  the  plant  will  reach  up  its  feeble  tendrils 
to  be  blessed  by  the  wax-ming  ray.  Yet  the 
soul  is  from  God,  is  higher  than  vine  or  tree, 
and  should  aspire  toward  Him  who  stirs  these 
mysterious  aspirations  in  the  heart. 

The  soul  is  like  a  lost  child.  It  wanders  a 
stranger  in  a  strange  laud.  Full  oft  it  is 
heartsick,  for  even  the  best  things  content  it 
for  but  a  little  while.  Daily,  mysterious  ideals 
throb  and  throb  within.  It  struggles  with  a 
vagrant  restlessness.  It  goes  yearning  after 
what  it  does  not  find.  A  deep,  mysterious 
hunger  rises.  It  would  fain  come  to  itself. 
In  its  ideal  hours  it  sees  afar  off  the  vision 
that  tempts  it  on  and  up  toward  home  and 
heaven.  The  secret  of  man  is  the  secret  of 
his  vision  hours.  These  tell  him  whence  he 
came — and  whither  he  goes.  Then  Christ  be- 
came the  soul's  guide;  God's  heart,  the  soul's 
home. 


The  Physical  Basis  of  Character 


"Health  is  the  vital  principle  of  bliss. "—T?iomp- 
son. 

"  Good  nature  is  often  a  mere  matter  of  health. 
"With  good  digestion  men  are  apt  to  be  good  natured ; 
with  bad  digestion,  morose." — Beeclier. 

•'  A  man  so  trained  in  youth  that  his  body  is  the 
ready  servant  of  his  will,  and  does  with  equal  ease 
and  pleasure  all  the  work  that  as  a  mechanism  it  is 
capable  of, — whoso  intellect  is  a  clear,  cold,  logic- 
engine,  with  all  its  parts  of  equal  strength  and  in 
smooth  working  order,  ready  like  a  steam  engine  to 
be  turned  to  any  kind  of  work,  and  spin  the  gossa- 
mers as  well  as  forge  the  anchors  of  the  mind." — 
Huxley. 

"  Finally,  I  have  one  advice  which  is  of  very  great 
importance.  You  are  to  consider  that  health  is  a 
thing  to  be  attended  to  continually,  as  the  very  high- 
est of  all  temporal  things.  There  is  no  kind  of  an 
achievement  equal  to  perfect  health.  What  to  it  are 
nuggets  or  millions  ?  " — Carlyle's  Address  to  Students 
at  Edintnirgh. 

"  Though  I  look  old,  yet  I  am  strong  and  lusty: 
For  in  my  youth  I  never  did  apply 
Hot  and  rebellious  liquors  in  my  blood: 
Nor  did  not  with  unbashful  forehead  woo 
The  means  of  weakness  and  debility; 
Therefoi-e  my  age  is  as  a  lusty  wintei", 
Frosty  but  kindly." 

—''As  Vou  Like  It,"  ii:  3. 


IV 


The  Physical  Basis  of  Character 

A  NCIENT  society  looked  upon  the  human 
'^  body  with  the  utmost  veneration.  The 
citizen  of  Tliebes  or  Memphis  knew  no  higher 
ambition  than  a  competency  for  embahning 
his  body.  Men  loved  unto  death  and  beyond 
it  the  physical  house  in  which  the  soul  dwelt. 
Every  instinct  of  refinement  and  self-respect 
revolted  from  the  thought  of  discarding  the 
body  like  a  cast-off  garment  or  worn-out  tool. 
In  his  dying  hour  it  was  little  to  Rameses  that 
his  career  was  to  be  pictured  on  obelisk  and 
preserved  in  pyramid,  but  it  was  very  much  to 
the  King  that  the  embalmer  should  give  per- 
manency to  the  body  with  which  his  soul 
had  gone  singing,  weeping  and  loving  through 
three-score  years  and  ten.  The  papyrus  found 
in  the  tombs  tells  us  that  the  soldiers  of  that 
far-off  age  did  not  fear  death  itself  more  than 
they  feared  falling  in  some  secluded  spot  where 
the  body,  neglected  and  forgotten,  would 
quickly  give  its  elements  back  to  air  and  earth. 
How  noble  the  sentiment  that  attached   dig- 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

nity  and  honor  to  hand  and  foot!  Sacred, 
doubly  sacred,  was  the  body  that  had  served 
the  soul  long  and  faithfully! 

The  soul  is  a  city,  and  as  Thebes  had  many 
gateways  through  which  passed  gi'eat  caravans 
laden  with  goodly  treasure,  so  the  five  senses 
are  gateways  through  which  journey  all  earth's 
sights  and  sounds.  Through  the  golden  gate 
of  the  ear  have  gone  what  noble  truths,  com- 
panying  together  what  messengers  of  affection, 
what  sweet  friendships.  The  eye  is  an  Appian 
Way  over  which  have  gone  all  the  processions 
of  the  seasons.  How  do  hand  and  vision  pro- 
tect man?  Hunters  use  sharp  spears  for  keep- 
ing back  wild  beasts,  but  Livingstone,  armed 
only  with  eye  beams,  drove  a  snarling  beast 
into  the  thicket,  and  Luther,  lifting  his  great 
eyes  upon  an  assassin,  made  the  murderer  flee. 
What  flute  or  harp  is  comparable  for  sweet- 
ness to  the  voice?  It  carries  warning  and 
alarm.  It  will  speak  for  you,  plead  for  you, 
pray  for  you.  Truly  it  is  an  architect,  ful- 
filling Dante's  dictum,  "piling  up  mountains 
of  melody."  Serving  the  soul  well,  the  body 
becomes  sacred  by  service.  Therefore  man 
loves  and  guards  the  physical  house  in  which 
he  lives. 

Always  objects  and  places  associated  with 
life's  deep  joys  and  sorrows  become  themselves 

78 


Physical  Basis  of  Character 

sacred  through  these  associations.  The  flock 
passing  through  the  forest  leaves  some  white 
threads  behind.  The  bird  lines  its  nest  with 
down  from  its  own  bosom.  Thus  the  heart, 
going  forward,  leaves  behind  some  treasure, 
and  perfumes  its  path.  Memory  hangs  upon 
the  tree  the  whispered  confession  made  beneath 
its  branches.  No  palace  so  memorable  as  the 
little  house  where  you  were  reared,  no  charter 
oak  so  historic  as  the  trees  under  which  you 
played,  no  river  Nile  so  notable  as  the  little 
brook  that  once  sung  to  your  sighing,  no  vol- 
ume or  manuscript  so  precious  as  the  letter 
and  Testament  your  dying  father  pressed  into 
your  hand.  Understanding  this  principle,  na- 
tions guard  the  manuscript  of  the  sage,  the  sword 
of  the  general,  the  flag  stained  with  heroes' 
blood.  Memorable  forever  the  little  room  where 
Milton  wrote,  the  cottage  where  Shakespeare 
dwelt,  the  spot  where  Dante  dreamed,  the  ruin 
where  Phidias  wrought.  But  no  building  ever 
showed  such  comely  handiwork  as  the  temple 
built  by  divine  skill.  God  hath  made  the 
soul's  house  fair  to  look  upon.  Death  may 
close  its  doors,  darken  its  windows,  and  pull 
down  its  pillars;  still,  its  very  ruins  are  pre- 
cious, to  be  guarded  with  jealous  care.  How 
sacred  the  spot  where  lie  the  parents  that 
tended    us,    the    bosom    that  shielded  our  in- 

79 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

fancy,  the  hands  that  carried  our  weakness 
everywhither.  Men  will  always  deem  the  dese- 
cration of  the  body  or  the  grave  blasphemous. 
The  physical  house,  standing,  is  the  temple  of 
God;  falling,  it  must  forever  be  sacred  in  man's 
memory. 

Science  teaches  us  to  look  upon  the  body  as 
a  thinking  machine.  As  a  mental  mechanism 
it  exhibits  the  divine  being  as  an  inventor, 
v/ho  has  produced  a  machine  as  much  superior 
to  Watt's  engine,  as  that  engine  is  superior  to 
a  clod  or  stone.  In  this  divine  mechanism 
all  intricate  and  enduring  machines  are  com- 
bined in  one.  Imagine  an  instrument  so  deli- 
cate as  to  be  at  once  a  telescope  and  micro- 
scope, at  one  moment  witnessing  the  flight  of 
a  sun  hundreds  of  millions  of  miles  away, 
then  quickly  adjusted  for  seeing  the  point  of 
the  finest  needle!  Imagine  a  machine  that  at 
one  and  the  same  moment  can  feel  the  grateful- 
ness of  the  blaziiig  fire,  taste  the  sweetness  of 
an  orange,  experience  the  assthetic  delights  of 
a  picture,  recall  the  events  in  the  careers  of  the 
men  the  artist  has  delineated,  recognize  the 
entrance  of  a  group  of  friends,  out  of  the  con- 
fusion of  tongues  lead  forth  a  voice  not  heard 
for  years,  thrill  with  elation  at  the  unexpected 
meeting!  The  very  mention  of  such  an  instru- 
ment, combining  audiphone,  telephone,  phono- 

80 


Physical  Basis  of  Character 

graph,  organ,  loom,  and  many  other  mechan- 
isms yet  to  be  invented,  seems  like  some  tale 
from  the  ' '  Arabian  Nights. "  Yet  the  body  and 
brain  make  up  such  a  wondrous  mental  loom, 
weaving  thought-textures  called  conversations, 
poems,  orations,  making  the  creations  of  a  Jac- 
quard  loom  mere  child's  play.  The  body  is  like 
a  vast  mental  depot  with  lines  running  out  into 
all  the  world.  Everything  outside  has  a  desk 
inside  where  it  transacts  it.s  special  line  of  busi- 
ness. There  is  a  visual  desk  where  sunbeams 
make  up  their  accounts;  an  aural  desk  where 
melodies  conduct  their  negotiations ;  a  memory 
desk  where  actions  and  motives  are  recorded ;  a 
logical  desk  where  reasons  and  arguments  are 
received  and  filed.  Truly  God  hath  woven  the 
bones  and  sinews  that  fence  the  soul  about  into 
a  mechanism  "  fearfully  and  wonderfully  made." 
To-day  science  is  writing  for  us  the  story  of 
the  ascent  of  the  body.  Scholars  perceive  that 
matter  has  fulfilled  its  mi.ssion  now  that  dust 
stands  erect,  throbbing  in  a  thinking  brain,  and 
beating  in  a  glowing  heart.  Ours  is  a  world 
wherein  God  hath  ordained  that  acorns  should 
go  on  toward  oaks,  huts  become  houses,  tents 
temples,  babes  men,  and  the  generations 
journej'^  on  to  that  sublime  event  ' '  toward  which 
the  whole  creation  moves."  In  this  long  up- 
ward march  science  declares  the  human  body 

8i 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

has  had  its  place.  Professor  Drummond, 
famed  for  his  Christian  faith,  in  his  recent 
volume  tells  us  that  man's  body  brings  for- 
ward and  combines  in  itself  all  the  excellencies 
of  the  whole  lower  animal  creation.  As  the  lo- 
comotive of  to-day  contains  the  engine  of  Watt 
and  the  improvements  of  all  succeeding  inven- 
tors; as  the  Hoe  printing-press  contains  the 
rude  hand-machine  of  Guttenberg  and  the 
best  features  of  all  the  machines  that  followed 
it;  so  the  human  body  contains  the  special  gift 
of  all  earlier  and  lower  forms  of  animal  life. 
In  making  a  reaper  the  machinist  does  not  be- 
gin with  the  sickle,  and  then  unite  the  hook 
with  the  scythe,  afterward  joining  thereto  the 
rude  reaper  and  so  move  on  through  all  the 
improving  types.  But  in  the  germinal  man, 
nature  does  adopt  just  this  method.  As  the 
embryo  life  develops  it  passes  into  and 
through  the  likeness  of  each  lower  animal,  and 
ever  journeying  upward  carries  with  it  the 
special  grace  and  gift  of  each  creature  it  has 
left  behind,  "sometimes  a  bone,  or  a  muscle, 
or  a  ganglion,"  until  the  excellencies  of  many 
lower  forms  are  compacted  in  the  one  higher 
man.  In  the  human  body  there  are  now  seventy 
vestigial  structures,  e.  g.,  vermiform  appen- 
dices, useful  in  the  lower  life  but  worse  than 
useless   in   man.        When   an   anatomist   dis- 

82 


Physical  Basis  of  Character 

covered  an  organ  in  a  certain  animal  he  foretold 
its  rudimentary  existence  in  the  embryonic 
man,  and  we  are  told  his  prophecy  was  fulfilled 
through  the  miscroscope,  "just  as  the  planet 
Neptune  was  discovered  after  its  existence 
had  been  predicted  from  the  disturbances  pro- 
duced in  the  orbit  of  Uranus."  As  some  noble 
gallery  owes  its  supremacy  to  centuries  of  toil 
and  represents  treasures  brought  in  from  every 
clime  and  country,  so  the  human  body  repre- 
sents contributions  from  land  and  sea,  and 
members  and  organs  from  innumerable  crea- 
tures that  creep  and  walk  and  fly. 

Thus  man's  descent  from  the  animals  has 
been  displaced  by  the  ascent  of  the  human 
body.  This  is  not  degradation,  but  an  unspeak- 
able exaltation.  Man  is  "fearfully  and  won- 
derfully made."  God  ordained  the  long  up- 
ward march  for  making  his  body  exquisitely 
sensitive  and  fitted  to  be  the  home  of  a  divine 
mind.  How  marvelously  does  this  view  en- 
hance the  dignity  of  man,  and  clothe  God  with 
majesty  and  glory!  It  is  a  great  thing  for  the 
inventor  to  construct  a  watch.  But  what  if 
genius  were  given  some  jeweler  to  construct  a 
watch  carrying  the  power  to  regulate  itself, 
and  when  worn  out  to  reproduce  itself  in  an- 
other watch  of  a  new  and  higher  form,  endow- 
ing it  at  the  same  time  with  power  for  handing 

83 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

forward  this  capacity  for  self-improvement?  Is 
not  the  wisdom  and  skill  required  for  making 
a  watch  that  is  self-adjusting,  self-improving, 
and  self-succeeding  vastly  more  than  the  wis- 
dom required  to  construct  a  simple  timepiece? 
Should  science  finally  establish  the  new  view, 
already  adopted  by  practically  all  biologists, 
it  will  but  substitute  the  method  of  gradualism 
and  an  imfolding  progression  for  a  human 
body  created  by  an  instantaneous  and  peremp- 
tory fiat.  But  this  is  a  question  for  specialists 
and  experts.  Those  scholars  who  accept  this 
view,  including  such  thinkers  as  the  late  Presi- 
dent McCosh,  of  Princeton;  Dana,  of  Yale; 
such  teachers  as  Caird,  Drummond,  and  scores 
who  could  be  named,  all  renowned  tor  their  Chris- 
tian belief  and  life,  find  that  these  new  views 
do  not  waste  faith,  but  rather  nourish  it. 
Formerly  men  feared  and  fought  Newton's  doc- 
trine of  gravity,  trembling  lest  that  principle 
should  destroy  belief.  To-day  many  are  troubled 
because  of  the  new  views  of  development.  But 
it  is  possible  for  one  to  believe  in  evolution,  and 
still  believe  in  God  with  all  the  mind  and  soul  and 
strength.  Strangely  enough,  some  are  unwil- 
ling to  have  ascended  progressively  from  an 
animal,  but  quite  willing  to  have  come  up 
directly  from  the  clod.  But  either  origin  is 
good  enough  providing  man  has  ascended  far 

84 


Physical  Basis  of  Character 

enough  from  the  clod  and  the  animal,  and 
made  some  approach  to  the  angel.  Some  there 
are  for  whom  no  descent  seems  possible — they 
can  go  no  lower;  dwelling  now  with  beasts; 
others  seem  to  have  made  no  ascent  whatever, 
but  to  be  even  now  upon  the  plane  of  things 
that  crawl  and  creep.  Let  us  leave  the  question 
to  the  scientists.  By  whatever  way  the  body 
came,  mentality  and  spirituality  have  now 
been  engrafted  upon  it.  Man  is  no  longer 
animal,  but  spiiiUud;  and  the  wondrous  de- 
velopment of  man  upon  this  side  of  the 
grave  is  the  pledge  and  promise  of  a 
long  progress  beyond  the  grave,  Avhen  the 
divine  spirit  by  his  secret  resources  shall  lead 
forth  from  men,  emotions,  dispositions,  and 
aspirations  as  much  beyond  the  present  thought 
and  life  as  the  tree  is  beyond  the  seed  and  the 
low-lying  roots. 

In  this  new  view  of  tlie  human  body,  science 
not  only  exhibits  the  growth  and  perfection  of 
man  as  the  goal  toward  which  God  has  been 
moving  from  the  first,  but  also  throws  light 
upon  the  sinfulness  of  man  and  the  conflicts 
that  rajre  within  the  soul.  Man  is  seen  to  be 
a  double  creature.  The  spirit  man  rides  a  man 
of  flesh  and  is  often  thrown  thereby  and  tram- 
pled under  foot.  There  is  a  lower  animal  nature 
having   all   the    appetites    and  passions    that 

85 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

sustain  the  physical  organization ;  but   super- 
imposed    thereon,    is    a    spiritual     man,  with 
reason  and  moral  sentiment,  with  affection  and 
faith.     The  union  of   the  two  means  strife  and 
conflict ;  the  doing  what  one  would  not  do  and 
the  leaving  undone  what  one  would  do.     The 
poet  describes  the  condition  by  saying:    "  The 
devil  squatted  early  on  human   territory,  and 
God  sent  an  angel   to  dispossess  him."     The 
animal  nature  foams  out  all  manner  of  passions 
and    lusts.        From    thence    issue   also    lurid 
lights    and   murky    streams.     But  the   under 
man   is  not  the  true  man.     The  soldier   rides 
the  horse,  but  is  himself  other  than  his  beast. 
Man  uses  an  animal  at  the  bottom,  but  man  is 
what  he  is  at  the  top.     Sin  is  the  struggle  for 
supremacy  between  the  animal  forces  and  the 
higher  spiritual  powers.     The  passions  down- 
stairs must  be  subordinated  to  the  people  up- 
stairs.    In  some  men  the  animal  impulses  pre- 
dominate with  terrible  force,  and  their    con- 
trol is  not  easy.     It  is  as  if  a  child  should  try 
to  drive  a  chariot  drawn  by  forty  steeds  of  the 
sun.     When  a  man  finds  that  he  can  not  dam 
back    the   mountain  stream,   nor   stop  up  its 
springs,  he  learns  to  use  the  stream  by  build- 
ing a  mill,  and  controlling  the  pressure  of  the 
flood  for  grinding  his  corn.    Similarly,  the  prob- 
lem of  life  is   for  the  upper   man  to   educate, 

86 


Physical  Basis  of  Character 

control,  and  transmute  the  lower  forces  into 
sympathy  and  service.  The  combative  powers 
once  turned  against  his  fellows  must  be  turned 
against  nature  and  used  for  hewing  down  the 
forests,  bridging  rivers,  piercing  mountains. 
Thus  every  animal  foiTC  and  passion  becomes 
sacred  throui£h  consecration  to  mental  and 
spiritual  ends  and  aims. 

Sin  therefore  ceases  to  be  philosophy  or  mediae- 
valism;  it  becomes  a  concrete  personal  fact. 
Daily  each  one  comes  under  its  rule  and  sway. 
The  mind  loves  truth,  and  the  body  tempts 
man  to  break  truth.  The  soul  loves  honor, 
and  passion  tempts  it  to  deflect  its  pathway. 
Man  goes  forth  in  the  morning  with  all  the 
springs  of  generosity  open;  but  before  night 
selfishness  has  dammed  up  the  hidden  springs. 
In  the  morning  man  goes  out  with  love  irra- 
diating his  face; he  comes  back  at  night  sullen 
and  black  with  hatred  and  enmity.  In  the 
morning  the  soul  is  like  a  young  soldier,  pa- 
rading in  stainless  white;  at  night  his  gar- 
ments are  begrimed  and  soiled  with  self-indul- 
gence and  sin.  As  there  is  a  line  along  the 
tropics  where  two  zones  meet  and  breed  per- 
petual storm,  so  there  is  a  middle  line  in  man 
where  the  animal  man  meets  the  spiritual  man, 
and  there  is  pei'petual  storm.  There  clouds 
never  pass  away,  and  the  thunder  never  dies 

87 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

out  of  the  horizon  of  time*  This  view,  appeal- 
ing to  universal  reason,  appeals  also  to  divine 
help.  In  his  daily  strife  man  needs  the  brooding 
presence  and  constant  stimulus  of  the  divine 
being.  Man  waits  for  God's  stimulus  as  the 
frozen  roots  wait  the  di'awing  near  of  God's 
sun.  The  soul  looks  ever  unto  the  hills  whence 
Cometh  its  help.  In  the  morning,  at  noon, 
and  at  night,  man  longs  for  a  deliverer.  God  is 
the  pledge  of  the  soul's  victory  over  the  bpdy. 
For  men  floundering  in  the  slough  of  sin  and 
despond  these  words,  "Ye  may,  ye  must  be 
born  again,"  are  sweeter  than  angel  songs 
falling  from  the  hills  of  Paradise. 

Consider  the  uses  of  the  body.  It  is  God's 
schoolmaster  teaching  industry,  compelling 
economy  and  thrift,  and  promoting  all  the 
basal  moralities.  It  contains  the  springs  of 
all  material  civilzation.  If  we  go  back  to  the 
dawn  of  history  we  find  that  hunger  and  the 
desires,  associated  with  the  body,  have  been 
the  chief  stimulants  toward  industrial  progress. 
Indolence  is  stagnation.  Savages  in  the  trop- 
ics ai^e  torpid  and  without  progress.  Hunger 
compels  men  to  ask  what  food  is  in  the  river, 
what  roots  are  in  the  ground,  what  fruits  are 
on  the  trees,  what  forces  are  in  the  air.  The 
body  is  peremptory  in  its  demands.  Hunger 
carries  a  stinging  scourge.      Necessity  drives 

*See  Symposium  on  Evolution,  Homiletic  Review,  May,  1894. 

88 


Physical  Basis  of  Character 

out  the  evil  spirits  of  indolence  and  tor- 
pidity. The  early  man  threading  the  thickets 
in  search  of  food  chanced  upon  a  sweet  plum, 
and  because  the  bush  grew  a  long  way  from 
his  lodge  he  transplanted  the  root  to  a  vale 
near  his  home.  Thence  came  all  man's  or- 
chards and  vineyards.  Shivering  with  cold, 
man  sought  out  some  sheltered  cave  or  hollow 
tree.  But  soon  the  body  asked  him  to  hew  out 
a  second  cave  in  addition  to  the  one  nature 
had  provided.  Fulfilling  its  requests,  man 
went  on  in  the  interests  of  his  body  to  pile 
stone  on  stone,  and  lift  up  carved  pillars  and 
groined  arches.  Thence  came  all  homes.  For 
the  body  the  sower  goes  forth  to  sow,  and  the 
harvester  looks  forward  to  the  time  of  sheaves 
and  shoutings.  For  strengthening  the  body  the 
shepherd  leads  forth  his  flocks  and  herds,  and 
for  its  raiment  the  weaver  makes  the  looms 
and  spindles  fly.  For  the  body  all  the  trains 
go  speeding  in  and  out,  bringing  fruits  from 
the  sunny  south,  and  furs  from  the  frozen 
north.     All  the  lower  virtues  and  intep"rities 

o 

spring  from  its  desires.  As  an  engine,  lying 
loose  in  a  great  ship,  would  have  no  value,  but, 
fastened  down  with  bolts,  drives  the  great  hull 
through  the  water,  so  the  body  fastens  and 
bolts  the  spirit  to  field,  forest,  and  city, 
and  makes  it  useful  and  productive.     Material 

89 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

life  and  civilization  may  be  said   to  literally 
rest  upon  man's  bones  and  sinews. 

The   body    is    also    the   channel    of   all  the 
knowledges.     How  scant  is  the  child's  under- 
standing of  the  world-house  in  which  he  lives! 
There  are  shelves  enough,  but   they   are  all 
empty.     In   the    interest    of    intelligence  his 
mind  is  sheathed  in  this  sensitive  body  and  the 
world  forces  without  report  themselves  to  this 
sensitive  nerve  mechanism.     Fii'e  comes  in  to 
burn  man's  fingers  and  teach  him  how  to  make 
the  fire  smite  vapor  from  water.     Cold  comes 
in  to  nip  his  ears  and  pinch  his  cheeks  until 
he  learns  the  economy  of  ice,  snow  and  rain. 
Steel  cuts  his  fingers  and  the  blood  oozes  out. 
Thenceforth  he  turns  the  axe  toward  the  trees 
and   the  scythe    toward  the    standing    grain. 
The  stone  falling  bruises   him,    compelling  a 
knowledge  of  gi'avity  and  the  use  of  trip-ham- 
mer, weights  and  pulleys.     Looking  downward 
the  eye  discerns  the  handwriting  on  the  rocks 
and  the  mind  reads  earth's    romantic  story. 
Looking  upward,   the  vision    runs  along  the 
milky  way  for  measuring  the  starry  masses  and 
searching    out    their    movements.       The    ear 
strains  out  sweet  sounds,  and  St.  Cecilia  hears 
melodies  from  the  sky.     Bending  over  the  cra- 
dle, the  parent  marvels  at  God's  bounty  in  the 
face  of  a  babe.     When  the  little  one  goes  away 

90 


Physical  Basis  of  Character 

the  parent  copies  its  face  in  rude  colors,  or 
carves  its  form  in  marble.  Thus  all  the  arts, 
sciences  and  inventions  are  gifts  of  the  body  to 
man's  mental  and  moral  life. 

There  is  a  beautiful  story  of  a  company  of 
celestial  beings,  who,  in  disguise,  entered  an 
ancient  cit}^  upon  a  mission  of  mercy.  Depart- 
ing hurriedly,  in  some  way  a  fair  young  child 
was  left  behind  and  lost.  In  the  morning 
when  men  came  upon  the  streets  they  found  a 
sweet  boy  with  sunny  hair  sitting  upon  the 
steps  of  the  temple.  Language  had  he  none. 
He  answered  questions  with  streaming  eyes 
and  frightened  face.  While  men  wondered 
a  slave  di'ew  near,  carrying  a  harp.  Then  the 
heavenly  child  signaled  for  the  instrument,  for 
this  language  he  could  speak.  He  threw  his 
arms  about  the  harp  as  the  child  about  its 
mother's  neck.  He  touched  one  stx'ing.  Upon 
the  hushed  air  there  stole  out  a  note  pure, 
clear,  and  sweet  as  though  amethysts  and  pearls 
were  melted  into  liquid  melodies.  It  was  mu- 
sic, but  not  such  music  as  mortals  give  to  mor- 
tals. It  was  such  a  song  as  spirit  would  sing 
to  spirit,  signaling  across  the  streets  of  heaven. 
It  was  a  hymn  to  the  mother  whom  he  had 
loved  and  lost.  With  tearful  eye  and 
smiling  face  the  little  stranger  and  the  harp  to- 
gether wept,  and  laughed,  and  sobbed  out  their 

91 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

grief  and  song.  It  was  the  speech  of  a  child 
homesick  for  heaven.  What  that  harp  was  to 
the  silent  boy,  the  human  body  is  to  man's  soul 
within.  The  soul  teemed  with  thoughts.  Fan- 
cies surged  and  thronged  within.  Then  God 
gave  the  soul  a  body,  as  a  harp  of  many  strings. 
Through  it  the  soul  finds  voice  and  pours  forth 
its  rich  thoughts  and  varied  emotions. 

Consider,  also,  how  nature  has  ordained 
the  body  as  a  system  of  moral  registration. 
Nature  has  a  record  of  all  men's  deeds,  keeping 
her  accounts  on  fleshly  tablets.  The  mind  may 
forget,  the  body  never.  The  brain  sees  to  it 
that  the  thoughts  within  do  immediately  dis- 
pose of  facial  tissue  without.  Mental  bright- 
ness gives  facial  illumination.  The  right  act  or 
true  thought  sets  its  stamp  of  beauty  in  the  fea- 
tures ;  the  wrong  act  or  foul  thought  sets  its  seal 
of  distortion.  Moral  purity  and  sweetness  re- 
fine and  beautify  the  countenance.  The  body 
is  a  show  window,  advertising-  and  exhibiting 
the  soul's  stock  of  goods.  Natui'e  condenses 
bough,  bud  and  shrub  into  black  coal;  com- 
pacts the  rich  forces  of  air  and  sun  and  soil 
into  peach  and  pear.  In  the  kingdom  of  mor- 
als, there  are  people  who  seem  to  be  of  virtue, 
truth  and  goodness  all  compact.  Contrari- 
wise, every  day  you  will  meet  men  upon  our 
streets  who  are   solid    bestiality  and  villainy 

92 


Physical  Basis  of  Character 

done  up  in  flesh  and  skin.     Each  feature  is  as 
eloquent  of  rascality  as  an  ape's  of  idiocy.     Ex- 
perts skilled  in  physiognomy  need  no  confes- 
sion from  impish  lips,  but  read  the  life-history 
from  page  to  page  written  on  featui*es  ' '  dimmed 
by  sensuality,  convulsed  by  passion,  branded 
by  remorse;  the  body  consumed  with  sloth  and 
dishonored  with  selfish  uses;  the  bones  full  of 
the  sins  of  youth,  the  face  hideous  with  secret 
vices,    the   roots    dried    up    beneath   and    the 
branches  cut  off  above."     It  is  as  natural  and 
necessary  for  hidden  thoughts  and  deeds  to  re- 
veal themselves  through  cuticle  as  for  root  or 
bud  in  spring  to  unroll   themselves  into  sight 
and  observation.     Here  and  now  everything 
tends  to  obscure  nature's  handwritinor  and  to 
veil  it  in  mist  and  disguise.     But  the  body  is 
God's  canvas,  and  nature's  handwriting    goes 
ever  on.      Each  faculty  is  a  brush,  and  with  it 
reason  thinks  out  the  portrait.     Even  the  wolf 
may  give  something  to  the  features,  and  also 
the  snake  and  scorpion.   Soon  will  come  an  hour 
when  men  will  hear  not  the  voice  of  the  sirens 
singing  praises  in  the  ear,  nor  the  plaudits  of 
men  of  low  deeds  and  conscience,  but  an  hour 
when  men  shall  stand  in  the  presence  of  the  all- 
revealing  light  and  see  themselves  as  they  are 
and  I'eview  the  life  they  have  embodied  and  em- 
portraited.     Happy,  thrice  happy,  those  who 

93 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

have  traversed  all  life's  pathway  and  come  at 
last  to  the  hour  when  they  stand  face  to  face 
with  themselves,  then  to  find  therein  a  divine 
image  like  unto  the  comeliness  and  completion 
of  Him  whose  face  was  transfigured  and  shone 
as  the  light. 

At  length  has  dawned  the  day  when  science 
strengthens    the    argument    for    immortality. 
The  dream    of    the  prophet  and  seer  is    con- 
firmed   in    the    light    of  modern    knowledge. 
"Each  new  discovery,"  says  John  Fiske,  "but 
places  man  upon  a  higher  pinnacle  than  ever, 
and  lights  the  future  with  the  radiant  color  of 
hope."     Leaving  his  body  behind,   man  jour- 
neys on  toward  an  immortal  destiny.     Science 
has  emptied  a  thousand  new  meanings  into  the 
words  of    Socrates:   "The  destruction  of  the 
harp  does  not  argue  the  death  of  the  harpist." 
Nature  decrees  that  the  flower  must  fall   when 
the  fruit  swells.      If  the  winged  creature  is  to 
come  forth  and  increase,   the   chrysalis  must 
perish  and  decrease.     When  the  long  journey 
is  over  it  is  natural  that  the  box  in  which  the 
richly  carved    and    precious    statue  is  packed 
should   be  tossed  aside.     Swiftly  youth  goes 
on    toward    maturity,    age    toward    old    age, 
and  the  scythe  awaits  all.     But   sickness  and 
trouble  can  do  nothing  more  than  dim  the  eye, 
dull    the  ear,    weaken    the  hand.     Dying  and 

94 


Physical  Basis  of  Character 

death  avail  not  for  injuring  reason,   affection, 
or  hope,  or  love. 

At  the  close  of  a  long  and  arduous   career 
the    famous    Lyman    Beecher    passed    under 
a    mental    cloud.       The    great    man    became 
as  a  little  child.      One    day    after    his    son, 
Henry  Ward,    had    preached   a   striking    ser- 
mon,   his  father  entered    the    pulpit    and  be- 
ginning   to    speak     wandered  in    his    words. 
With  great  tenderness  the  preacher  laid  his 
hand  upon  his  father's  shoulder  and  said  to  the 
audience:  "My  father  is  like  a  man  who,  having 
long  dwelt  in  an  old  house,  has  made  prepai'a- 
tions  for  enterinfj  a  new  and  larser  home.  Antic- 
ipating  a  speedy  removal,  he  sent  on  beforehand 
much  of   his  soul-furniture.     When  later  the 
day  of    removal    was    postponed   the    interval 
seemed  so  brief  as  to  render  it  unnecessary  to 
bring  back  his  mental  goods."     Oh,    beautiful 
words  describing  those  whose  strength  is  de- 
clining, whose  spirit  is  ebbing  and  senses  fail- 
ing, because  God  is  packing  up  their  soul-fur- 
niture that  they  may  be  ready  for  the  long 
journey  that  awaits  us  all.     But  man's  journey 
is  not  unto  the  grave.     Dying  is  transmuta- 
tion.     Dying  is  not  folding  of  the  wings  ;  but 
pluming  the  pinions  for  new  and  larger  flight. 
Dying  is  not  striking   an  unseen   rock,    but  a 
speedy  entrance  into  an  open  harbor.     Death  is 

95 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

no  enemy,  letting  the  arrow  fly  toward  one  who 
sits  at  life's  banquet-table.  Death  is  a  friend 
coming  on  an  errand  of  release  and  divine  con- 
voy. For  God's  children  "  to  be  death-called 
is  to  be  God-called;  to  be  God-called  is  to  be 
Christ-found  ;  to  be  Christ-found  is  hope  and 
home  and  heaven." 


The  Mind;  and  the  Duty  of  Right 
Thinking 


"  All  ye  who  possess  the  power  of  thought,  prize  it 
well  !  Remember  that  its  flight  is  infinite;  it  winds 
about  over  so  many  mountain  tops,  and  so  runs  from 
poetry  to  eloquence,  it  so  flies  from  star  to  star,  it  so 
dreams,  so  loves,  so  aspires,  so  hangs  both  over  mys- 
tery and  fact,  that  we  may  well  call  it  the  effort  of 
man  to  explore  the  home,  the  infinite  palace  of  his 
heavenly  Father." — Swin^, 

"Men  with  empires  in  their  brains." — Loivell. 

"  'Tis  the  mind  that  makes  the  body  rich." — Taming 
of  the  Shrew. 

"  Like  thoughts  whose  very  sweetness  yieldeth  proof 
That  they  were  born  for  immortality." 

— Wordsworth. 

"  Neither  ydars  nor  books  have  yet  availed  to  ex- 
tirpate a  prejudice  then  rooted  in  me  that  a  scholar 
is  the  favorite  of  heaven  and  earth,  the  excellency 
of  his  country,  the  happiest  of  men." — Emerson. 

"  Happy  is  the  man  that  findeth  wisdom,  for  the 
merchandise  of  it  is  better  than  the  merchandise  of 
silver,  and  the  gain  thereof  than  fine  gold  " — Solomon. 


The  Mind;  and  the  Duty  of  Right 
Thinking 

\  11 /ITH  fine  imagery  the  seer  of  old  likened  the 
'  *  mind  unto  a  tree.  The  tree  shakes  down 
its  fruits,  and  the  mind  sheds  forth  its  thoughts. 
The  boughs  of  the  one  will  cover  the  land 
with  forests;  the  faculties  of  the  other  will 
sow  the  world  with  harvests  that  blight  or 
harvests  that  bless.  The  measure  of  personal 
worth,  therefore,  is  the  number  and  quality  of 
thoughts  issuing  from  man's  mind.  For  all 
the  doing  called  commerce,  and  all  the  speak- 
ing called  conversation  and  books,  begin  with 
the  thinking  called  ideas.  Each  thing  was 
first  a  thought.  A  loom  is  Arkwright's 
thought  dressed  up  in  iron  clothes.  Books  are 
the  scholar's  thoughts  caught  and  fastened  upon 
the  white  page.  As  our  planet  and  the  harvests 
that  cover  it  are  the  thoughts  of  God  rushing 
into  visible  expression,  so  all  houses  and 
ships,  all  cities  and  institutions,  are  man's  inner 
thoughts,  taking  on  cuter  and  material  em- 
bodiment. 

99 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

When  thoughts  compacted  into  habits  have 
determined  character  and  destiny  for  the  indi- 
vidual, they  go  on  and  secure  their  social  prog- 
ress. When  God  would  order  a  great  upward 
movement  for  society,  He  drops  a  great  idea 
into  the  mind  of  some  leader.  Such  energies 
divine  have  these  thoughts  that  they  create 
new  epochs  in  history.  Through  Luther  the 
thought  of  liberty  in  church  and  state  set 
tyrants  trembling  and  thrones  tottering. 
Through  Cromwell  the  thought  of  personal 
rights  became  a  weapon  powerful  enough  ut- 
terly to  destroy  that  citadel  of  iniquity  named 
the  divine  right  of  kings.  It  was  a  great 
moral  thought  called  the  "Golden  Rule"  that 
shotted  the  cannon  of  the  North  for  victory 
and  spiked  the  cannon  of  the  South  for  defeat. 
Measureless  is  the  might  of  a  moral  idea.  It 
exceeds  the  force  of  earthquakes  and  the 
might  of  tidal  waves.  The  reason  why  no  scholar 
or  historian  can  forecast  the  events  and  insti- 
tutions of  the  next  century  is  that  none  can 
tell  what  great  idea  God  will  drop  into  the 
soul  of  some  man  ordained  to  be  its  voice  and 
prophet. 

Now  the  omnipotence  of  thoughts  is  not 
without  reason.  Man  is  the  child  of  genius  be- 
cause he  is  the  child  of  God.  Those  beautiful 
words,  "made  in  His  image,"    tell  us  that  the 

100 


The  Mind  and  the  Duty  of  Rijijht  Thinkin^^ 

human    mechanism    is    patterned     after    the 
divine.     Reason  and  memory  in  man  answer 
to  those  faculties  in  God,  as  do  conscience  and 
the  moral  sentiments.    In  creative  genius  man 
alone  is  a  sharer  with  God.     As   the  Infinite 
One  passing  through  space  leaves  behind  those 
shining  footsteps  called  suns  and  stars,  glow- 
ing and  sparkling  upon  planets  innumerable, 
so  man's  mind,  moving  through  life,  leaves  be- 
hind a  pathway  all  shining  with  books,  laws, 
liberties   and   homes.     Of    all    the    wonderful 
things  God   hath  made,  man  the  wonderer  is 
himself  the  most  wonderful.     No  casket  owned 
by   a   king,  filled   with    gems    and   sparkling 
jewels,  ever  held  such  treasure  as  God  hath  put 
into  this  casket  of  bones  and  sinew.     The   im- 
agination cannot  paint  in  colors  too  rich  this 
being,  who  is  a  miniature  edition  of  infinity. 
It  is  not  fiction,  but  fact,  to  say  that  reason  is 
a   loom;   only    where    Jacquard's    mechanism 
weaves  a  few  yards  of  silk  and  satin,  reason 
weaves  conversation,  sympathy,  songs,  poems, 
eloquence — textures  all  immortal.    And  mem- 
ory is  a  gallery;  only  where  the  Louvre  holds 
a  few  pictures  of  the  past,  memory  waving  her 
wonder-working  wand  brings  back  all  faces,  liv- 
ing and  dead,  causing  mountains  and  battle- 
fields, with  all  distant  scenes,   to  pass  before 
the  mind  in  solemn  procession. 

lOI 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

The  Bank  of  England  has  indeed  a  mechan- 
ism that  tests  coins  and  throws  out  all  light 
weights.  But  judgment  is  an  instrument  testing 
things  invisible,  weighing  arguments  and  mo- 
tives, testing  principles  and  characters.  And 
the  desires,  are  they  not  like  unto  the 
richly  laden  argosies  of  commerce?  And 
fancy,  hath  it  not  the  skill  of  artist  and  archi- 
tect? Imagination,  working  in  the  realm  of 
the  useful,  turns  iron  into  engines.  Im- 
agination, working  in  realms  of  the  beauti- 
ful, turns  pigments  into  pictures.  Imag- 
ination, working  in  the  realms  of  thought, 
can  turn  things  true  into  sciences,  and  things 
good  into  ethical  systems.  Well  did  the  philoso- 
pher say  that  the  greatest  star  is  the  one  stand- 
ing at  the  little  end  of  the  telescope,  the  one 
looking,  not  looked  at  nor  looked  for.  When 
some  Agassiz  dredging  the  Atlantic  tells  us 
what  animals  lived  there  a  million  years  ago, 
the  scientist's  mind  seems  an  abyss  deeper 
than  the  sea  itself;  and  when  Tyndall,  climbing 
to  the  top  of  the  Matterhorn,  reads  on  that  rock- 
page  all  the  events  of  the  ancient  w^orld,  the 
mountain  is  dwarfed  to  an  ant  hill  and  be- 
comes insignificant  in  the  presence  of  the 
mountain-minded  scholar.  Hunters  tell  us 
that  when  crossing  a  swamp  they  leap  from  one 
hummock  of  grass  to  another.     But  Herschel 

102 


The  Mind  and  the  Duty  of  Right  Thinking 

and  Proctor,  exploring  the  heavenly  world, 
step  fi'om  star  to  star.  The  husbandman, 
squeezing  a  cluster  of  grapes  in  his  cup,  does 
but  interpret  to  us  the  way  in  which  the 
scholar  squeezes  planets  and  suns  to  brim 
the  cup  of  knowledge  for  man's  thirsting  soul. 
This  vast  and  wondrous  world  without  is 
matched  by  man's  rich  and  various  mind  within ! 
Well  did  Emerson  exclaim,  "Man,  thou  palace 
of  sigfit  and  sound,  carrying  in  thy  senses  the 
nights  and  mornings,  the  summers  and  win- 
ters; carrying  in  thy  brain  the  geometry  of 
the  City  of  God,  in  thy  heart  all  the  bowers  of 
love,  and  all  the  realms  of  right  and  wrong." 
Such  being  the  nature  of  the  mind,  consider 
its  prodigious  fruitfulncss  in  thought.  If  all 
the  processes  of  the  mind  were  reduced  to  ma- 
terial volume,  the  thou<£hts  of  each  moment 
would  fill  a  page,  the  thoughts  of  each  hour 
would  fill  a  chapter,  the  thoughts  of  each  day 
would  fill  a  volume,  the  emotions  of  a  year 
would  fill  a  small  library  of  many  volumes. 
Value  might  be  wanting,  but  not  bulk.  It  is 
given  to  the  eye  to  behold  the  harvests 
wrought  by  the  secret  force  of  roots  and  sun- 
beams. But  if  all  the  products  of  the  soul 
could  be  made  visible  to  the  eye  and  ear,  how 
marvelous  would  be  these  exhalations,  rising 
and  filling  all  the  air.       Were  all  the  emotions 

103 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

and  passions  and  dreams  of  one  single  day  fully 
revealed,  what  dramas  would  there  be  beyond 
all  the  ti*agedies  man's  hand  hath  ever  indi- 
cated! Consider  what  fertility  the  mind  hath! 
Consider  how  many  trains  of  thought  reason 
takes  up  each  hour.  Consider  all  that  belongs 
to  a  man  as  an  animal,  his  fears  and  passions, 
defensory  in  nature.  Consider  his  social  equip- 
ment, with  all  the  possible  moods  and  combina- 
tions of  affections.  Consider  the  vast  activi- 
ties of  his  reason  working  outward,  and  the 
imagination  working  upward.  Sometimes  iu 
the  morning  man's  thoughts  are  for  number 
and  strena;th  like  unto  the  strenj^th  of  armies. 
Sometimes  in  the  night  his  aspirations  exhale 
heavenward  with  all  the  purity  and  beauty  of 
the  clouds.  Consider  also  how  life's  conflicts 
and  warfare  inflame  man's  faculties  and  hasten 
their  process. 

Consider  how  courage,  despondency,  hope 
and  fear,  friendship  and  enmity,  increase  the 
activities.  Consider  man's  ambitions — steeds 
of  the  sun  with  incredible  swiftness  dragging 
forward  the  soul's  chariot.  Consider  the  ri- 
valries among  men.  What  intensities  of 
thought  are  induced  thereby!  Consider  that 
toward  one's  friends  the  mind  sends  forth 
thoughts  that  are  almoners  of  bounty  and  an- 
gels of  mercy.      But  consider  that  man  is  over 

104 


The  Mind  and  the  Duty  of  Right  Thinking 

against  his  enemy,  with  a  mind  like  unto  a 
walled  city  tilled  with  armed  men.  Consider  how 
in  life's  conflicts,  thoughts  become  the  swords  of 
anger,  the  clubs  of  envy,  stings  for  hissing 
hati-ed.  Consider  that  in  times  of  great  ex- 
citement the  soul  literally  blazes  and  burns, 
exhaling  emotions  and  thoughts  as  a  planet 
exhales  light  and  heat.  Wondrous  the  power 
of  the  loom  newly  invented,  that  with  marvel- 
ous swiftness  weaves  in  silk  figures  of  flowers 
and  trees  and  birds.  But  the  uttermost  speed 
of  those  flying  shuttles  is  slowness  itself  com- 
pared to  the  swiftness  of  the  mental  loom, 
that  without  noise  or  clangor  weaves  fabrics 
eternal  out  of  the  warp  and  woof  of  affection  and 
thought,  of  passion  and  purpose.  Consider 
that  every  man  is  not  simply  two  men,  but  a 
score  of  men.  All  the  climatic  disturbances  in 
nature,  all  distemperatures  through  heat  and 
cold,  wet  and  dry,  summer  and  wintei*,  do  but 
answer  in  number  and  variety  to  the  moods  in 
man's  brain.  Not  the  all-producing  summer  is 
so  rich  in  bounty  as  the  mind  is  rich  in  thought 
when  working:  its  regnant  and  creative  moods. 
Vast  are  the  buildings  man's  hands  have  reared; 
sweet  are  the  songs  man's  mind  hath  sung ;  lovely 
the  faces  man's  hand  hath  painted;  but  the 
silent  songs  the  soul  hears,  the  invisible  pic- 
tures the  mind  sees,  the  secret  buildings  the 

105 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

imagination  rears,  these  are  a  thousand-fold 
more  beautiful  than  any  as  yet  embodied  in 
this  material  world. 

The  Spanish  have  a  proverb  that  ' '  He  who 
sows  thoughts  will  reap  acts,  habits,  and  char- 
acter," for  destiny  itself  is  determined  by 
thinking.  Life  is  won  or  lost  by  its  master 
thoughts.  As  nothing  reveals  character  like 
the  company  we  like  and  keep,  so  nothing  fore- 
tells futurity  like  the  thoughts  over  which  we 
brood.  It  was  said  of  John  Keats  that  his  face 
was  the  face  of  one  who  had  seen  a  vision.  So 
long  had  his  inner  eye  been  fixed  upon  beauty, 
so  long  had  he  loved  that  vision  splendid, 
so  long  had  he  lived  with  it,  that  not  only  did 
his  soul  take  on  the  loveliness  of  what  he  con- 
templated, but  the  very  lines  of  the  poet's  face 
were  chiseled  into  beauty  by  those  sculptors 
called  thoughts  and  ideals.  When  Wordsworth 
speaks  of  the  girl's  beauty  as  "born  of  mur- 
muring sound,"  the  poet  indicates  his  belief 
that  the  girl's  long  love  of  the  sweet  briar  and 
the  thrush's  song,  her  tender  care  of  her  favor- 
ite flowers,  had  ended  in  the  saturation  of  her 
own  face  with  sweetness.  Swiftly  do  we  be- 
come like  the  thoughts  we  love.  Scholars  have 
noticed  that  old  persons  who  have  ' '  lived  long 
together,  'midst  sunshine  and  'midst  cloudy 
weather,"  come    at   length    to   look  as  nearly 

1 06 


The  Mind  and  the  Duty  of  Ki^^lit  Thinking 

alike  as  do  brother  and  sister.  Emerson 
explains  this  likeness  by  saying  that  long 
thinking    the    same  thoughts  and   lovinoj  the 

O  DO 

same  objects  mould  similarity  into  the  features. 
Nor  is  there  any  beauty  in  the  face  of  youth 
or  maiden  that  can  long  survive  soui'ness  in 
the  disposition  or  discontent  in  the  heart. 

Contrariwise,  all  have  seen  faces  very  plain 
naturally  that  have  become  positively  radiant 
because  the  beautiful  soul  that  is  enmeshed  in 
and  stands  behind  the  muscles  has  shone 
throutrh  and  beautified  all  of  the  facial  tissues. 
Two  of  our  great  novelists  have  made  a  special 
study  of  the  architectural  power  of  thoughts. 
Dickens  exhibits  Monks  as  beginning  his  career 
as  an  innocent  and  beautiful  child  ;  but  as  end- 
ing his  life  as  a  mass  of  solid  bestiality,  a  mere 
chunk  of  fleshed  iniquity.  It  was  thinking 
upon  vice  and  vulgarity  that  transformed  the 
angel's  face  into  the  countenance  of  a  demon. 
Hawthorne  has  made  a  similar  study  of  Chil- 
lingworth,  whose  moi'al  deterioration  began 
through  evil  thinking  when  face  and  physique 
were  fully  matured.  Chillingworth  stood  forth 
in  middle  life  a  thoughtful,  earnest,  and  just 
man  ;  but,  during  his  absence,  he  suffered  a 
grievous  wrong.  Not  knowing  the  identity 
of  his  enemy,  the  physician  came  to  suspect 
his  friend.      By  skillful   questions    he    digged 

107 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

into  Dimmesdale's  heart  as  the  sexton  might 
delve  into  the  grave  in  search  of  a  possible 
jewel  upon  a  dead  man's  breast.  When  suspi- 
cion had  strengthened  into  certainty,  enmity 
became  hatred.  Then,  for  two  years,  Chilling- 
worth  tortured  his  victim  as  once  inquisitors 
tortured  men  by  tweaking  the  flesh  with  red- 
hot  pincers.  Soon  the  face  of  the  physician, 
once  so  gentle  and  just,  took  on  an  aspect  sin- 
ister and  malign.  Children  feared  him,  men 
shivered  in  his  presence — they  knew  not  why. 
Once  the  magistrate  saw  the  light  glimmering 
in  his  eyes  "with  flames  that  burned  blue, 
like  the  ghastly  fire  that  darted  out  of  Bun- 
yan's  aAvful  doorway  on  the  hillside  and  quiv- 
ered in  the  Pilgrim's  face."  All  this  is  Haw- 
thorne's way  of  telling  us  how  thoughts  deter- 
mine character  and  shape  destiny.  He  who 
thinks  of  mean  and  ugly  things  will  soon  show 
mud  in  the  bottom  of  his  eye.  Ugliness  within 
soon  fouls  the  facial  tissues.  But  he  who  thinks 
of  "  things  ti'ue  and  just  and  lovely  "  will,  by 
his  thinking,  be  ti'ansformed  into  the  image  of 
the  ideal  he  contemplates,  even  as  the  rose  be- 
comes red  by  exposing  its  bosom  to  the  sun- 
beams and  soaking  each  petal  in  the  sun's  fine 
rays. 

Not    only    are    thoughts    the    builders    of 
character  for  the   individual;  they  are  also  the 

1 08 


The  Mind  and  the  Duty  of  Right  Thinking 

architects  of  states  and  nations.  All  this  won- 
derful fabric  lying  over  our  land  like  a  beauti- 
ful garment  is  a  fabric  spun  and  woven  out  of 
ideas.  Each  outer  substance  was  builded 
by  an  inner  sentiment.  What  the  eye  sees 
are  stone  and  brick  and  iron  united  by  ma- 
sons and  carpenters,  but  the  forces  that  hold 
these  material  things  together  are  not  iron 
bands,  but  thoughts  and  beliefs.  Destroy  the 
life-nerve  running  up  through  the  tree,  and  the 
rings  of  wood  will  soon  fall  apart.  Destroy 
the  thoughts  and  beliefs  of  our  people,  and  its 
homes,  colleges  and  institutions  will  decline 
and  decay.  Thrust  a  million  Mohammedans 
into  our  land,  and  their  inner  thoughts  will 
realize  themselves  in  mosques,  minarets,  and 
harems.  But  thrust  a  million  Americans  into 
Asia  Minor  and  straightway  their  thoughts 
will  take  on  these  visible  shapes  called  houses 
and  factories,  temples  of  learning,  altars  of 
praise  and  prayer.  For  what  we  call  Saxon 
civilization  is  only  a  magnificent  incarnation 
of  a  certain  mental  type  and  a  moral  charac- 
ter. Not  only  individuals,  but  nations  ax^e 
such  stuff  as  thoughts  are  made  of. 

In  his  famous  story  of  archery  Virgil  repre- 
sents Acestes  as  shooting  his  arrow  with  such 
force  that  it  took  fire  as  it  flew  and  went  up  into 
the  air  all  aflame,  thus  opening  from  the  place 

109 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

where  the  archer  stood  a  pathway  of  light 
into  the  heavens.  Now  it  is  given  to  man's 
thoughts  to  fulfill  this  beautiful  story,  in  that 
they  open  up  shining  pathways  along  which 
the  human  steps  may  move.  On  the  practical 
side,  it  is  by  the  thinking  alone  that  man 
solves  his  bread-winning  problem.  Standing, 
each  in  his  place,  using  his  strongest  faculty 
and  working  in  the  line  of  least  resistance,  each 
must  conquer  for  himself  food  and  support. 
To  say  that  society  owes  us  a  living  or  to  consume 
more  than  we  produce  is  to  sink  to  the  level  of 
pauper  and  parasite.  The  successful  man  is 
one  whose  thoughts  about  his  bread-winning 
problem  have  been  wise  thoughts;  paupers  and 
tramps,  with  their  hunger  and  rags,  are  men 
who  have  thought  foolishly  about  how  they 
could  best  earn  a  livelihood. 

He  who  has  one  strong  faculty,  the  using  of 
which  would  give  delight  and  success,  yet 
passes  it  by,  to  use  a  weaker  faculty,  is  doomed 
to  mediocrity  and  heart-breaking  failui'e.  The 
eagle  has  powerful  muscles  under  the  wings, 
but  slender  and  feeble  legs;  the  fawn  lacks  the 
weight  of  the  draught  horse,  but  has  limbs  for 
swiftness.  Now,  if  an  eagle  should  become  a 
competitor  in  a  walking  race  and  if  the  fawn 
should  enter  the  list  of  draught  horses,  we 
should  have  that  which  answers  precisely  to 

no 


The  Mind  and  the  Duty  of  Right  Thinking 

the  way  in  which  some  men  seek  to  gain  their 
livelihood,  by  tying  up  their  strongest  gift  and 
using  their  feeblest  faculties.  When  it  is  said 
that  only  five  merchants  out  of  a  hundred  suc- 
ceed we  perceive  that  the  great  majority  of 
men  do  not  think  to  any  purpose  in  choosing 
an  occupation.  Recalling  his  friends  who 
had  misfitted  themselves,  Sidney  Smith  once 
said:  "  If  we  represent  the  occupations  of  life 
by  holes  in  a  table,  some  round,  some  square, 
some  oblong,  and  persons  by  bits  of  wood 
of  like  shapes,  we  shall  generally  find  that 
the  triangular  person  has  got  into  the  square 
hole,  the  oblong  into  the  triangular,  while  the 
squai'e  person  has  squeezed  himself  into  the 
round  hole. "  For  lack  of  wise  thinking  before- 
hand, multitudes  have  died  of  broken  hearts 
midst  failure  and  misery  who  might  have 
achieved  groat  happiness  and  success  had, 
they  used  their  thoughts  in  choosing  their  life- 
work.  He  who  approaches  his  task  with  a 
leaden  heart  is  out  of  the  race  before  he  is  in  it. 
Success  means  that  the  heart  loves  what  the 
hand  does.  The  bread- winning  problem  is 
the  one  that  touches  us  first  and  most  closely, 
and  to  wise  thoughts  only  is  it  given  to  solve 
that  problem. 

The    number    and    value    of    our    Ihouohts 
determine    a    man's    vahie    to    society.       No 

III 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

investments  bring  so  high  a  rate  of  inter- 
est as  investments  of  brain.  Hand  work  earns 
little,  but  head  work  much.  In  a  Western 
camp  one  miner  put  his  lower  brain  into  the 
pickaxe  and  earned  $2.00  a  day;  another 
miner  put  his  higher  brain  into  the  stamp-mill 
and  soon  was  receiving  a  score  of  dollars  daily 
for  his  work;  a  third  youth,  toiling  in  the 
same  mine,  put  his  genius  into  an  electric  proc- 
ess for  extracting  ore,  and  sold  his  invention 
for  a  fortune.  It  seems  that  wealth  was  not  in 
the  pick,  but  in  the  thoughts  that  handled  it. 
Had  God  intended  man  to  do  his  work  through 
the  body,  man's  legs  would  have  been  long 
enough  to  cover  leagues  at  a  stride,  his  biceps 
would  have  been  strong  enough  to  turn  the 
crank  for  steamships,  his  back  would  have  been 
Atlantean  for  carrying  freight  cars  across  the 
plains. 

But,  instead  of  giving  man  long  legs,  God 
gave  him  a  mind  able  to  make  locomotives. 
Instead  of  telescopic  eyes,  he  gave  man  mind 
to  invent  far-seeing  glasses.  Instead  of  a 
thousand  fingers  for  weaving,  he  gave  man 
five  fingers  and  genius  for  inventing  a  thou- 
sand steel  fingers  to  do  his  spinning.  Wealth 
is  not  in  things,  but  in  the  brain  that  shapes 
raw  material.  Vast  was  the  sum  of  gold  taken 
out  of  California,  but  this  nation  might  well 

112 


The  Mind  and  the  Duty  of  Kij^ht  Tliinking 

pays  down  a  hundred  Californias  for  a  man  to 
invent  a  process  to  make  coal  drive  the  engine 
without  the  intervention  of  steam.  That  in- 
ventor would  enable  the  street  cars  for  one 
cent  to  carry  the  people  of  the  tenement-house 
district  ten  miles  into  the  country  in  ten  min- 
utes, and  thereby,  throuj^h  sunshine  and  fresh 
air  and  solitude,  would  solve  a  hundred 
problems  that  now  vex  the  statesman  and  the 
moralist.  A  young  botanist  in  Kansas  has 
just  announced  his  pui'pose  to  cross  the  milk- 
weed and  the  strawberry,  so  that  hereafter 
strawberries  and  cream  may  grow  upon  the 
same  bush.  His  task  may  be  doomed  to 
failure,  but  that  youth  at  least  understands 
that  thoup-ht  turned  the  wild  rice  into  wheat: 
thought  turned  the  sweet  briar  into  the 
crimson  rose;  brains  mixed  the  pigments 
for  Paul  Veronese,  and  gave  the  canvas  worth 
a  few  florins  the  value  of  tens  of  thousand  of 
dollars.  Already  wise  thoughts  have  turned 
the  barbarian  into  a  gentleman  and  citizen, 
and  some  glad  day  thoughts  will  crown  man 
with  tlie  attributes  and  qualities  of  God. 

Of  old,  the  Greek  philosopher  described 
the  origin  of  man.  One  day  Ceres,  in 
crossing  a  stream,  saw  a  human  face 
emcrgini;  from  the  soil.  It  was  the  face 
of     a    man.      Standing     by    this    earth-born 

113 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

creature,  the  goddess  extricated  his  head  and 
chest;  but  left  his  legs  fastened  in  the  soil. 
Now,  the  invisible  friends  that  free  man  from 
his  earth  fetters  are  those  divine  visitors 
called  ideas  and  thoughts.  God  hath  made 
thoughts  to  be  golden  chariots,  in  which  the 
soul  is  swept  upward  into  the  heavenly 
heights. 

When  thoughts  have  sown  man's  path- 
way with  happiness  and  peace  they  go  on  to 
determine  character  and  futurity.  Each  life 
memorable  for  goodness  and  nobility  has  for 
its  motive  power  some  noble  thought.  Each 
hero  has  climbed  up  to  immortality  upon  those 
golden  rounds  called  good  thoughts.  Here  is 
that  cathedral  spirit,  John  Milton.  In  his  lone- 
liness and  blindness  his  mind  was  his  kingdom. 
He  loved  to  think  of  things  true  and  pure  and 
of  good  report.  Oft  at  midnight  upon  the 
poet's  ear  there  fell  the  sound  of  celestial 
music,  that  afterward  he  transposed  into  his 
"Paradise  Regained."  Dying,  it  was  given 
him  to  proudly  say:  "  I  am  not  one  of  those 
who  have  disgraced  beauty  of  sentiment  by  de- 
formity of  conduct,  nor  the  maxims  of  the 
freeman  by  the  actions  of  the  slave,  but  by 
the  grace  of  God,  I  have  kept  my  soul  un- 
sullied." Here  is  the  immortal  Bunyan, 
spending    his    best     years    in    Bedford    jail 

114 


The  Mind  and  the  Duty  of  Right  Thinking 

because  he  insisted  on  giving  men  the  message 
God  had  first  given  him;  but  he,  too,  opened 
his  mind  only  to  good  thoughts.  For  him, 
also,  dawned  the  heavenly  vision.  As  the 
prison  doors  opened  before  Peter  and  the 
angel,  so  the  dungeon  walls  parted  before  his 
thoughts.  Walking  about  in  glad  freedom,  he 
crossed  the  portals  of  the  Palace  Beautiful. 
From  its  marble  steps  he  saw  afar  off  the  De- 
lectable Mountains.  Hard  by  ran  the  River 
of  the  Water  of  Life.  The  breezes  of  the  hills 
of  Paradise  cooled  his  hot  temples  and  lifted 
his  hair.  His  regal  thoughts  crowned  the 
Bedford  tinker  and  made  him  king  in  English 
literature. 

Here  also  is  the  carpenter's  Son  rising  before 
each  earthly  pilgrim  like  a  star  in  the  night. 
A  man  of  truly  colossal  intellect,  incompara- 
ble as  He  strides  across  the  realms  and  ages, 
yet  always  thinking  the  gentlest,  kindliest 
thoughts;  thoughts  of  mildness  as  well  as  of 
majesty;  thoughts  of  humanity  as  well  as  di- 
vinity. His  thoughts  were  medicines  for  hurt 
hearts;  His  thoughts  were  wings  to  all  the 
low-flying;  His  thoughts  freed  those  who  had 
been  snared  in  the  thickets;  His  thoughts  set 
an  angel  down  beside  each  cradle;  His  thoughts 
of  the  incarnation  rendered  the  human  body 
forever   sacred;   His   thoughts   of    the   grave 

115 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

sanctified  the  tomb.  Dying  and  rising,  His 
thoughts  clove  an  open  pathway  through  the 
sky.  Taught  by  Him,  the  people  have  learned 
to  think — not  only  gi-eat  thoughts,  but  good 
ones,  and  also  how  to  turn  thoughts  into  life. 

Bringing  their  thoughts  to  God,  God  has 
turned  thinking  into  character.  Each  spinner 
who  in  modesty  and  fidelity  tends  his  loom,  spins 
indeed,  garments  for  others,  but  also  weaves 
himself  invisible  garments  of  everlasting  life. 
Each  shipbuilder  fastening  his  timbers  to- 
gether with  honest  thoughts  will  find  that  his 
thoughts  have  become  ships  carrying  him  over 
the  sea  to  the  harbor  of  God.  Each  worker 
putting  integrity  into  gold  and  silver  will  find 
that  he  has  carved  his  own  character  into  a 
beauty  beyond  that  of  gems  and  sapphires. 
For  his  thoughts  drag  into  futurity  after  them. 
So  deeply  was  St.  George  Mivart  impressed 
by  this  that  he  said:  ' '  The  old  paviper  woman 
whom  I  saw  to-day  in  the  poorhouse,  in  her 
hunger  saving  her  apple  to  give  to  the  little 
orphan  just  brought  in,  and  unraveling  her 
stocking  and  bending  her  twisted  old  fingers 
to  knit  its  yarn  into  socks  for  the  blue  feet  of 
the  child  will,  I  verily  believe,  begin  her  life 
at  death  with  more  intellectual  genius — mark 
the  words,  intellectual  genius — than  will  begin 
that  second  life  any  statesman  or  prime  minis- 

Ii6 


The  Mind  and  the  Duty  of  Right  Thinking 

ter  or  man  famed  in  our  day.  For  I  know  of 
none  who  hath  been  faithful  in  his  much  after 
the  fashion  of  the  pauper  woman's  fidelity  with 
her  little." 

For  intellect  weighs  light  as  punk  against 
the  gold  of  character.  Should  God  give  us  to 
choose  between  goodness  and  genius,  we  may 
well  say,  "Give  genius  to  Lucifer,  let  mine  be 
the  better  part."  Intellect  is  cold  as  the  ice- 
palace  in  Quebec.  Heart-broken  and  weary- 
worn  by  life's  battle,  men  draw  near  to  some 
great-hearted  men,  as  pilgrims  crowd  close  to 
the  winter's  fire.  Men  neither  draw  their 
chairs  close  around  a  block  of  ice,  nor  about  a 
brilliant  intellect.  Our  quarrel  with  the  fool- 
ish scientist  is  that  he  makes  God  out  as  in- 
finite brain.  We  rejoice  at  the  revelation  of 
Christ,  because  He  portrays  God  as  heart  and 
not  genius. 

God  be  thanked  for  great  thoughts, 
but  a  thousand  times  more,  God  be  praised 
for  good  thoughts !  They  are  fuel  for  the 
fires  of  enthusiasm.  They  are  rudders  that 
guide  us  heavenward.  They  are  seeds  for 
great  harvests  of  joy.  They  fulfill  the  tale  of 
the  fairies  who  in  the  night  while  men  slept 
bridged  chasms,  builded  palaces,  laid  out 
streets  and  lined  them  with  homes,  built  the 
city  around  with  walls.     For  every  thought  is 

117 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

a  builder,  every  purpose  a  mansion,  and 
every  affection  a  cai'penter.  As  the  build- 
ers of  the  Cologne  Cathedral  were  guided 
by  the  plan  and  pattern  of  Von  Rile,  so  man's 
thoughts  are  builded  after  that  matchless 
model,  Jesus  Christ.  And  while  our  thoughts 
work,  His  thoughts  work,  also  adding  beauty 
to  the  soul's  strength.  In  the  olden  tale  the 
artist  pupil  through  very  weariness  fell  asleep 
before  the  picture  that  disappointed  him. 
While  he  slept  his  master  stole  into  the 
room,  and  with  a  few  swift  touches  corrected 
the  errors  and  brought  out  the  lines  of  lustrous 
beauty,  kindling  new  hope  within  the  boy's 
heart.  And  there  are  unexpected  providences 
in  life,  strange  influences,  interventions  and 
voices  in  the  night.  These  events  over  which 
we  have  no  control,  these  thoughts  of  the  Mas- 
ter above,  shape  us  not  less  than  the  thoughts 
that  build  from  within.  It  seems  that  not  one, 
but  two  are  working  vipon  the  soul's  structure. 
As  one  day  in  the  presence  of  his  master 
Michael  Angelo  pulled  down  the  scaffolding  in  the 
Sistine  Chapel,  and  the  workmen  cleared  away 
the  ropes  and  plaster  and  littei*,  and  looking 
up  men  saw  the  faces  of  angels  and  seraphs, 
with  their  lustrous  and  immortal  beauty,  so 
some  glad  day  will  that  angel  named  Death 
pull  down  life's  scaffolding  and  set  forever  in 

ii8 


The  Mind  and  the  Duty  of  Ri{:,'ht  Thinking 

the  sunlight  that  structure  built  of  thoughts, 
the  stately  mansion  reared  in  the  mind,  the 
building  not  made  with  hands,  the  character, 
eternal  in  the  heavens. 


The  Moral  Uses  of  Memory 


"  Without  memory,  man  is  a  perpetual  infant." — 
LocTie. 

"  The  memory  plays  a  great  part  in  ranking  men. 
Quintilian  reckoned  it  the  measure  of  genius.  The 
poets  represented  the  muses  as  the  daughters  of 
memory. " — Emerson. 

"  Recollection  is  the  only  paradise  from  which  we 
cannot  he  turned  out." — Richter. 

"  A  land  of  promise,  a  land  of  memory, 
A  land  of  promise  flowing  with  the  milk 
And  honey  of  delicious  memories." 

— Tennyson. 

"I  have  a  room  wherein  no  one  enters  save  I  my- 
self alone; 
There  sits  a  blessed  memory  on  a  throne. 
There  my  life  centers." 

— C.  Q.  Rosetti. 


VIZ/ 

The  Moral  Uses  of  Memory 

'T'HE  soul  is  a  monurcli  whose  rule  includes 
*  three  realms.  Its  throne  is  in  the  present, 
but  its  scepter  extends  backward  over  yester- 
day and  forward  over  to-morrow.  The 
divinity  that  presides  over  the  past  is  memory; 
to-day  is  ruled  by  reason,  to-morrow  is  under 
the  regency  of  hope.  In  every  age  memory  has 
been  an  unpopular  goddess.  The  poet  Byron 
pictures  this  divinity  as  sitting  sorrowing  midst 
mouldering  ruins  and  withering  leaves.  But 
the  orators  unveil  the  future  as  atro])ic  realm, 
magical,  mysterious  and  surpassingly  rich. 
The  temple  where  hope  is  worshiped  is  always 
crowded;  her  shrines  are  never  without  gifts 
of  flowers  and  sweet  sontjs. 

But  at  length  has  come  a  day  when  man  per- 
ceives that  the  vast  treasure  to  which  the 
present  has  fallen  heir  was  bequeathed  by  that 
friend  called  yesterday.  The  soul  increases  in 
knowledge  and  culture,  because  as  it  passes 
through  life's  rich  fields  memory  plucks  the 
ripe  treasure  on  either  hand,  leaving  behind  no 

123 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

golden  sheaf.  Philosophy,  therefore,  opposes 
that  form  of  poetry  that  portrays  yesterday  by 
the  falling  tower,  the  yellow  leaf,  the  setting 
sun.  Memory  is  a  gallery  holding  pictures  of 
the  past.  Memory  is  a  library  holding  wis- 
dom for  to-morrow's  emergencies.  Memory  is 
a  banqueting-hall  on  whose  walls  are  the 
shields  of  vanquished  enemies.  Memory  is  a 
granary  holding  bread  for  to-morrow's  hunger, 
seed  for  to-morrow's  sowing.  That  man  alone 
has  a  great  to-morrow  who  has  back  of  him  a 
multitude  of  great  yesterdays, 

Aristotle  used  memory  as  a  measure  of 
genius.  He  believed  that  every  great  man 
was  possessed  of  a  great  memory  in  his  own 
department.  He  was  the  great  artist  whose 
mind  searched  out  and  whose  memory  retained 
the  beauty  of  each  sweet  child,  the  loveliness  of 
each  maiden  and  mother.  He  was  the  great 
scientist  who  remembered  all  the  facts,  forgot 
no  exception,  and  grouped  all  under  laws. 
The  great  orator  was  he  whose  memory  stood 
ready  to  furnish  all  truths  gleaned  fi*om 
books  and  conversation,  from  tx'avel  and  ex- 
perience— weapons  these  with  which  the  orator 
faces  his  hearers  in  a  noble  cause,  controls  and 
conquers  them. 

After  driving  through  Windsor  Park,  Dor6, 
the    artist,     recognized    his    debt     to     mem- 

124 


The  Moral  Uses  of  Memory 

ory  by  observing  that  he  could  recall  every 
tree  he  had  passed,  and  draw  each  shrub  from 
memory.  We  are  indebted  to  the  mechanical 
genius  of  Watt  for  the  steam  engine;  but,  be- 
fore beginning  his  work,  the  inventive  faculty 
asked  memory  to  bring  forward  all  objects, 
foi'ces  and  facts  suggested  by  and  I'clating  to 
that  steaming  tea  kettle.  Genius  cannot 
create  without  material  upon  which  to  work. 
It  is  given  to  the  eye  and  the  ear  and  the 
reason  to  obtain  the  facts;  memory  stores 
these  treasures  away  until  they  are  needed; 
and,  selecting  therefrom,  the  inventive  faculty 
fashions  physical  things  into  tools,  beautiful 
things  into  pictures,  ideas  into  intellectual 
philosophies,  morals  into  ethical  systems.  The 
architect  is  helpless  unless  he  remembers 
where  are  the  quarries  and  what  their  kinds; 
where  the  marbles  and  what  their  colors; 
where  the  forests  and  what  their  trees. 

Thus  all  the  creative  minds,  from  Phidias  to 
Shakespeare,  have  united  strength  of  memory 
with  fertility  of  invention.  As  the  Gobelin 
tapestry,  depicting  the  siege  of  Troy,  is  woven 
out  of  myriads  of  tinted  threads,  so  each  Ham- 
let and  each  "In  Memoriam  "  is  an  intellect- 
ual texture  woven  out  of  ideas  and  as])irations 
furnished  by  memory.  Indeed,  without  this 
faculty  there  could  be  no  knowledge  or  culture. 

125 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

Destroy  memory  and  man  would  remain  a  per- 
petual infant.  Because  the  mind  carries  for- 
ward each  new  idea  and  experience,  there  comes 
a  day  when  the  youth  stands  forth  a  master  in 
his  chosen  craft  or  profession.  It  is  memory 
that  unifies  man's  life  and  thought,  and  binds 
all  his  expei'iences  into  one  bundle. 

In  a  large  sense  civilization  itself  is  a  kind 
of  racial  memory.  Moving  backward  toward 
the  dawn  of  history,  we  come  to  a  time  when 
man  stood  forth  as  a  savage,  his  house  a  cave, 
his  clothes  a  leather  girdle,  his  food  locusts 
and  beri'ies.  But  to-day  he  is  surrounded  by 
home,  and  books  and  pictures,  by  looms  and 
trains  and  ships.  Now  yesterday  was  the 
friend  that  gave  man  all  this  rich  treasure.  We 
pluck  clusters  from  vines  other  generations 
planted.  We  ride  in  trains  and  ships  other 
thinkers  invented.  We  admire  pictures  and 
statues  other  hands  painted  and  carved.  Our 
happiness  is  through  laws  and  institutions  for 
which  other  multitudes  died.  We  sing  songs 
that  the  past  did  write,  and  speak  a  language 
that  genei'ations  long  dead  did  fashion. 

When  De  Tocqueville  visited  our  country,  he 
journeyed  westward  until  he  stood  upon  the 
very  frontier  of  civilization.  Before  him  lay 
the  forests  and  prairies,  stretching  for  thou- 
sands of  miles  toward  the  setting  sun.     But 

126 


The  Moral  Uses  of  Memory 

what  impressed  him  most  deeply  was  the 
civilization  behind  him,  reaching  to  the  Atlan- 
tic— a  civilization  including  towns  and  villages, 
with  free  institutions,  with  schoolroom  and 
church  and  library.  With  joy  he  reflected 
that  the  mental  and  moral  harvests  behind  him 
Avcre  sufficient  to  sow  the  vast  unconquered 
land  with  treasure.  Thus  each  to-day  is  a 
frontier  line  upon  which  the  soul  stands.  It 
is  the  necessity  of  life  for  man  to  journey 
backward  into  the  past  for  food  and  seed 
with  which  to  sow  the  unconquered  future. 
For  each  individual  yestei-day  holds  the  be- 
ginnings of  art  and  architecture.  Yesterday 
holds  the  beginnings  of  reform  and  philan- 
thropy. Yesterday  contains  the  rise  and  vic- 
tory of  freedom.  Yesterday  holds  the  first 
schoolroom  and  college  and  library.  Yester- 
day holds  the  cross  and  all  its  victories  over 
ignorance  and  sin.  Yesterday  is  a  river  pour- 
ing its  rich  floods  forward,  lending  majesty 
and  momentum  to  all  man's  enterprises.  Yes- 
terday is  a  temple  whose  high  domes  and  wide 
walls  and  flaming  altars  other  hands  and 
hearts  have  built.  For  the  individual,  memory 
is  a  granary  for  mental  treasure;  and,  for  the 
race,  civilization  is  a  kind  of  social  memory. 

Consider  the  task  laid  upon  memory.      The 
activity   and  fruitfulness  of  the  human   mind 

127 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

are  immeasurable.  Reason  does  not  so  much 
weave  thoughts  as  exhale  them.  Objects 
march  in  caravans  through  the  eye  gate  and 
the  ear  gate,  each  provoking  its  own  train  of 
thought.  And  the  unconscious  processes  of 
the  mind  are  of  even  greater  number.  The 
silent  songs  that  genius  hears,  the  invisible 
pictures  that  genius  paints,  the  hidden  castles 
that  genius  builds — no  building  of  a  city  with- 
out can  compare  for  wonder  and  beauty  and 
richness  with  the  building  processes  of  the 
soul  within.  If  some  angelic  reporter  could 
reduce  all  man's  thoughts  to  physical  volume, 
how  vast  the  book  would  be!  Thoughts  do  not 
go  single,  but  mai'ch  in  armies.  Feelings  and 
aspirations  move  like  flocks  of  caroling  song- 
sters. Desires  swarm  forth  from  the  soul  like 
bees  from  a  hive.  The  soul  is  a  city  through 
whose  gates  troop  innumerable  caravans,  bear- 
ing treasure  within,  carrying  treasure  forth 
without.  No  Gi'eat  Eastern  ever  carried  a 
cargo  that  was  comparable  for  vastness  and 
richness  with  that  voyaging  forward  in  the 
mind. 

Now  the  power  and  skill  of  God  is  nowhere 
more  manifest  than  in  this.  He  has  endowed 
the  mind  with  full  power  to  carry  forward  all 
its  joys,  its  friendships  and  victories.  It  is 
given  to  man  to  journey  in  a  single  summer 

128 


The  Moral  Uses  of  Memory 

over  that  pathway  along  which  the  human  race 
has  walked.  For  happiness  and  culture  the 
traveler  lingers  by  some  Runnymede  or  Mars- 
ton  Moor;  stays  by  castle  or  cathedral,  remains 
long  in  gallery  or  museum.  It  is  the  necessity  of 
his  body  for  the  traveler  to  leave  the  mountain 
behind  him  when  he  returns  to  the  city  in  the 
plain.  But  it  is  the  privilege  of  the  mind  to 
take  up  these  sights  and  scenes  and  carry 
them  away  as  so  much  treasure  made  portable 
by  memory.  By  a  secret  process  mountains 
and  valleys  and  palaces  are  reduced  in  size, 
photographed  and  put  away  I'eady  to  be  en- 
larged to  the  original  proportions. 

We  have  already  heard  of  the  inventor  who 
planned  an  engine  that  laid  its  track  and  took 
it  up  again  while  it  journeyed  forward.  But 
this  mechanical  dream  is  literally  fulfilled  in 
memory.  Grown  old  and  blind,  each  Milton 
may  pass  before  his  mind  all  the  panorama  of 
the  past,  to  find  the  events  of  childhood  more 
helpful  in  memory  than  they  were  in  reality. 
Looking  backward,  Longfellow  reflected  that 
the  paths  of  childhood  had  lost  their  rough- 
ness; each  way  was  bordered  with  flowers; 
sweet  songs  were  in  the  air;  the  old  home  was 
more  beautiful  than  king's  palaces  that  had 
opened  to  his  manhood's  touch. 

Similarly,  Dante,  storm-beaten,  harassed, 
weary  oi  selfisiiness,    voyaged   and    traveled 

129 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

into  that  foreign  land  that  he  called  "youth." 
There  he  hid  himself  until  the  storms 
were  passed.  For  him  memory  held  so 
much  that  was  bright  and  beautiful  that  it  be- 
came to  him  a  portfolio  of  engravings,  a  gal- 
lery of  pictures,  a  palace  of  many  chambers. 
Hidden  therein,  earth's  troubles  became  as 
harmless  as  hail  and  snov/  upon  tiled  castle 
roofs.  Men  wonder  oft  how  statesmen  and 
generals  and  reformers,  oppressed  beyond  en- 
durance, have  borne  up  under  their  burdens. 
This  is  their  secret:  they  have  sheltered  them- 
selves in  the  past,  found  medicines  in  memory, 
bathed  themselves  in  old-time  scenes  that  re- 
freshed and  cleansed  away  life's  gi-ime.  From 
the  chill  of  arctic  enmity,  it  is  given  to  the  soul 
through  memory  to  rise  above  the  storm  and 
cold  and  in  a  moment  to  enter  the  tropic  at- 
mosphere of  noble  friendship,  where  are  fra- 
grance and  beauty,  perpetual  warmth  and 
wealth. 

It  was  a  favorite  principle  with  Socrates 
that  the  lesser  man  never  comprehends  the 
latent  strength  in  his  reason  or  imagination 
until  he  witnesses  its  skill  in  the  greatest.  He 
implies  that  the  eloquence,  art,  and  skill  that 
crown  the  children  of  genius  exist  in  rudi- 
mentary form  in  all  men.  In  order,  therefore, 
to  understand  memory  in   its  ordinary  proc- 

130 


The  Moral  Uses  of  Memory 

esses,  let  us  consider  its  furictiuus  in  those  in 
whom  it  is  unique.  Fortuiuitely  scholars  in 
every  age  have  preserved  important  facts  con- 
cerning the  power  of  recollection.  The  classic 
orators  contain  repeated  reference  to  traveling 
singers,  who  could  recite  the  entire  Iliad  and 
Odyssey.  In  his  "Declamations,"  speaking  of 
the  inroads  disease  had  made  upon  him,  Seneca 
remarks  that  he  could  speak  two  thousand 
words  and  names  in  the  order  read  to  him,  and 
that  one  morning  he  listened  to  the  reading  of 
two  hundred  verses  of  poetry,  and  in  the  after- 
noon recited  them  in  their  order  and  without 
mistake. 

Muretus  remai-ks  that  the  stories  of  Seneca's 
memory  seemed  to  him  almost  incredible,  until 
he  witnes.ced  a  still  more  marvelous  occur- 
rence. The  sum  of  his  statement  is  that  at 
Padua  there  dwelt  a  young  Corsican,  a  bril- 
liant and  distinguished  student  of  civil  law. 
Having  heard  of  his  marvelous  faculty  of  mem- 
ory a  company  of  gentlemen  requested  fi'om 
him  an  exhibition  of  his  power.  Six  Venetian 
noblemen  were  judges,  though  thei'e  were 
many  other  witnesses  of  the  feat.  Muretus 
dictated  words,  Latin,  Greek,  barbaric,  dis- 
connected and  connected,  until  he  wearied  him- 
self and  the  man  who  wrote  them  down,  and 
the  audience  who  were   present.     Afterward 

131 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

the  young  man  repeated  the  entii'e  list  of 
words  in  the  same  order,  then  backward,  then 
every  other  woi'd,  then  every  fifth  word,  etc., 
and  all  without  error. 

Sir  William  Hamilton  says  that  the  librarian 
for  the  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany  read  every  book 
and  pamphlet  in  his  master's  library  and  took 
a  mental  photograph  of  each  page.  When 
asked  where  a  certain  passage  was  to  be  found, 
he  would  name  the  alcove,  shelf,  book,  page 
containing  the  passage  in  question.  Scaliger, 
the  scholar,  who  has  been  called  the  most 
learned  man  that  ever  lived,  committed  the 
Iliad  to  memory  in  three  weeks  and  mastered 
all  the  Greek  poets  in  four  months.  Ben  Jon- 
son  could  repeat  all  he  had  ever  written  and 
many  volumes  he  had  read,  as  could  Niebuhr, 
the  historian.  Macaulay  believed  that  he  had 
never  forgotten  anything  he  had  ever  read, 
seen,  or  thought.  Coleridge  tells  of  an  igno- 
rant family  servant,  who  in  moments  of  uncon- 
sciousness through  fever,  recited  passages  of 
Greek  and  Hebrew,  The  explanation  was  that 
the  servant  had  been  long  in  the  family  of  an 
old  clergyman  whose  habit  it  was  to  read  aloud 
the  Bible  in  the  originals. 

Physicians  have  noted  instances  where  a 
foreigner  coming  to  this  country  at  the  age  of 
four  or  five   has  completely  forgotten  his  na- 

132 


The  Moral  Uses  of  Memory 

tive  tongue.  Grown  old  and  gray,  in  mo- 
ments of  unconsciousness  through  fever,  the 
aged  man  has  talked  in  the  forgotten  language 
of  infancy.  Our  best  students  of  mental  phi- 
losophy believe  that  no  thought  or  feeling,  no 
enmity  or  aspiration,  is  ever  forgotten.  The 
sentiments  written  on  clay  harden  into  granite. 
Dormant  memories  are  not  dead.  At  a  touch 
they  return  in  their  old-time  power  and  vigor. 
Science  tells  us  that  the  flight  of  a  bird,  the 
falling  of  a  leaf,  the  laughter  of  a  child,  the 
vibration  of  song,  changes  the  whole  universe. 
The  boy  shying  a  stone  from  one  tree  to  an- 
other altei's  the  center  of  gravity  for  the 
earth.  And  if  the  movements  of  dead  leaves 
and  stones  are  events  unchangeably  written 
down  in  nature,  how  much  more  are  living 
hopes  and  thoughts.  The  soul  is  more  sensitive 
than  the  thermometer,  more  delicate  than  the 
barometer,  and  all  its  processes  are  registered. 
Thoughts  are  events  that  stain  the  mind 
through  in  fast  colors.  Did  man  but  know  it, 
no  event  falls  through  memory's  net. 

It  helps  us  to  understand  the  immortality  of 
memory  to  notice  the  provison  made  in  nature 
for  revealing  hidden  facts  and  forces.  To-day 
chemistry  shows  us  how  events  done  in  dark- 
ness shall  be  revealed  in  light,  and  the  deeds 
of  the  closet  be  proclaimed  from  the  housetop. 

133 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

In  olden  times  princes  communicated  with 
each  other  by  messengers.  Then  it  was 
necessary  to  guard  against  the  dispatch  falling 
into  the  hands  of  the  enemy,  so  between  the 
lines  of  the  apparent  message  was  a  dispatch 
traced  in  letters  as  colorless  as  water.  But 
when  the  sheet  was  held  before  the  blazing 
fire,  the  secret  writing  appeared.  Thus  in  the 
kingdom  of  the  soul,  nature  has  provided  for 
causing  events  to  stand  forth  from  the  past. 
Under  stimulus  the  memory  performs  the  most 
astonishing  feats.  Excitement  is  a  fire  that 
causes  the  dim  record  to  stand  forth  in  clear- 
ness. 

A  distinguished  lawyer  of  an  Eastern  city 
relates  that  while  engaged  in  an  argument 
upon  which  vast  issues  depended  he  suddenly 
realized  that  he  had  forgotten  to  guard  a  most 
important  point.  In  that  hour  of  excitement 
his  faculties  became  greatly  stimulated.  De- 
cisions, authorities  and  precedents  long  since 
forgotten  began  to  return  to  his  mind.  Dimly 
outlined  at  first,  they  slowly  grew  plain,  until 
at  length  he  read  them  with  perfect  distinct- 
ness, Mr.  Beecher  had  a  similar  experience 
when  he  fronted  the  mob  in  Liverpool.  He 
said  that  all  events,  arguments  and  appeals 
that  he  had  ever  heard  or  read  or  written 
passed  before  his  mind  as  oratorical  weapons. 

134 


The  Moral  Uses  of  Memory 

and  standiiitr  there  lie  had  but  to  reach  forth 
his  hand  and  seize  the  weapons  as  they  went 
smoking  by.  All  public  men  have  had  similar 
experiences — witness  the  testimony  of  Pitt, 
Burke  and  Wendell  Phillips.  But  what  event 
has  such  power  to  restore  the  records  of 
memory  as  that  secret  excitement  when  the 
soul  is  like  an  ambassador  returned  home  from 
a  foreign  mission  to  report  before  the  throne 
of  God  ?  Thus,  giving  in  its  account,  what 
sacred  stimulus  will  fall  upon  memory! 

In  every  age  poets  and  philosophers  have 
made  much  of  associations  as  a  restorer  of  dim 
memories.  Porter  has  a  story  of  a  dinner 
party  in  which  a  reference  to  Benedict  Arnold 
was  immediately  followed  by  someone  asking 
the  value  of  the  Roman  denarius.  Reflection 
shows  that  the  question  was  directly  suggested 
by  the  topic  under  discussion.  Benedict 
Arnold  suo-gested  Judas  Iscariot  and  the 
thirty  pieces  of  silver  given  him,  and  Iherefoi'e 
the  value  of  the  coin  which  he  received  as 
reward.  Similarly  there  is  a  tradition  that 
Peter's  face  was  clouded  with  sorrow  whenever 
he  heard  the  crowintj  of  a  cock.  Bulwer 
Lytton  represents  Eugene  Aram  as  scarcely 
able  to  restrain  a  scream  of  agony  when  a 
friend  chanced  to  drive  in  near  the  spot  where 
in  murderous  hate  he  had  struck  a  fatal  blow. 

135 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

Thus,  no  sin  is  ever  buried,  save  as  a  mur- 
derer buries  his  victim  under  a  layer  of  thin 
sand.      But   let   him    pass    that    way,    and  a 
skeleton  arm  starts  up  and  points  to  heaven 
and  to  the  evil  doer.     The  philosopher  affirms 
that  the  "memory  of  the  past  can  never  perish 
until  the  tree  or  the  river  or  the  sea  "  with 
which  the  dark  memory  is  associated   has  been 
blotted  out  of  existence.     Thus,  the  law  of  as- 
sociation ever  works  to  bring  back  the  ghastly 
phantom,  to  chill  the  blood  and  sear  the  brain. 
Nothing   is    ever   forgotten.     One  touch,   one 
sight,  one  sound,  the  murmur  of  the  stream, 
the  sound  of  a  distant  bell,  the  barking  of  a 
dog  in  the  still  evening,  the  green  path  in  the 
wood  with  the  sunlight  glinting  on  it,  the  way 
of  the  moon  upon  the  waters,  the  candlestick 
of  the  Bishop  for  Jean  Valjean,  the  passing  of 
a  convict  for  Dean  Maitland,  the  drop  of  blood 
for  Donatello — these  may,  through  the  events 
associated  therewith,  turn  the  heart  to  stone 
and  fill  the  life  with  a  dumb  agony  of  remorse. 
Moreover,    Shakespeare  indicates    how  con- 
science in  its  magisterial  aspects  has  skill  for 
reviving  forgotten  deeds.     In  the  laboratory 
scientists  take  two  glasses,  each  containing  a 
liquid  colorless  as  water  and   pour    them   to- 
gether, when  lo!  they  unite  and  form  a  sub- 
stance blacker  than  the  blackest  ink.     As  the 

136 


The  Moral  Uses  of  Memory 

chemical  bath  brings  out  the  pictui-e  that  was 
latent  in  the  photographic  plate,  so  in  its 
hitrher  moods  events  half-remembered  and  half- 
forgotten  rise  into  perfect  recollection.  His- 
tory tells  us  of  the  Oriental  despot  who  in  an 
hour  of  revelry  commanded  his  butler  to  slay  a 
prophet  whom  he  had  imprisoned  and  bring 
the  pale  head  in  upon  a  charger,  I^ong  after- 
ward there  came  a  day  when,  sitting  in  the  se- 
clusion of  his  palace,  a  soldier  told  those  around 
the  banqueting-table  the  story  of  a  wonder- 
worker whom  he  had  seen  upon  his  journey. 
When  the  banqueters  were  wondering  who  this 
man  was,  suddenly  the  king  ai'ose  pale  and 
trembling  and  cried  out,  "I  know!  It  is  John 
the  Baptist  whom  I  have  beheaded;  he  is  risen 
from  the  dead  I" 

This  old-time  story  tells  us  that  dormant 
memories  are  not  dead,  but  are  like  hibernat- 
ing serpents  that  with  warmth  lift  their 
heads  to  strike.  It  fulfills,  as  has  been  said, 
the  old  time  story  of  the  man  groping  along 
the  wall  until  his  fingers  hit  upon  a  hidden 
spring,  when  the  concealed  door  flew  open  and 
revealed  the  hidden  skeleton.  It  tells  us  that 
much  may  be  forgotten  in  the  sense  of  being 
out  of  mind,  but  nothing  is  forgotten  in  the 
sense  that  it  cannot  be  recalled.  Evei'y 
thought    the   mind   thinks    moves    forward  in 

^37 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

character,  even  as  foods  long  forgotten  report 
themselves  in  flesh  and  blood.  Memory  is  a 
canvas  above  and  the  man  works  beneath  it. 
Every  faculty  is  a  brush  with  which  man  thinks 
out  his  portrait.  Here  and  now,  deceived  by 
siren's  song,  each  Macbeth  thinks  himself  bet- 
ter than  he  is.  But  the  time  comes  at  last 
when  memory  cleanses  the  portrait  and  causes 
his  face  to  stand  forth  ineffaceable  in  full  reve- 
lation. 

But  memory  also  hath  aspects  gracious  and 
most  inspiring.  "I  have  lived  well  yester- 
day," said  the  poet;  "let  to-mori*ow  do  its 
woi'st. "  To  this  sentiment  the  statesman 
added:  "I  have  done  what  I  could  for  my  fel- 
lows, and  my  memories  thereof  are  more  pre- 
cious than  gold  and  pearls."  Thus  all  they 
who  have  loved  wisdom  and  goodness  will  find 
their  treasures  safe  in  memory's  care.  Per- 
haps some  precious  things  do  perish  out  of  life. 
The  melody  trembling  on  the  chords  after  the 
song  is  simg  sinks  away  into  silence.  The 
light  lingering  in  the  clouds  after  the  day  is 
done  at  last  dies  out  in  darkness.  But  as  the 
soul  is  consciously  immortal  through  personal- 
ity, it  has  an  unconscious  immortality  through 
its  tool  or  teaching,  through  its  example  or  in- 
fluence. Time  avails  not  for  destroying.  God 
and  the  soul  never  forget. 

138 


The  Moral  Uses  of  Memory 

Wisdom  comes  to  all  young  hearts  who 
as  yet  have  no  past,  before  whose  feet  lies 
the  stream  of  life,  waiting  to  bear  them  into 
the  future,  and  bids  them  reflect  that  maturity, 
full  of  successes,  is  only  the  place  where  the 
tides  of  youth  have  emptied  their  rich  treas- 
ures. He  whose  yestei'day  is  full  of  industry 
and  ambition,  full  of  books  and  conversation 
and  culture,  will  find  his  to-morrow  full  of 
worth,  happiness  and  friendship.  But  he 
who  gives  his  memory  no  treasure  to  be  gar- 
nered, will  find  his  hopes  to  be  only  the  mirage 
in  the  desert,  where  burning  sands  take  on  the 
aspect  of  lake  and  river.  Wisdom  comes  also 
to  those  who  in  their  maturity  realize  that  the 
mori'ow  is  veiled  in  uncertainty,  and  their 
tomb  is  not  far  distant.  It  bids  them  reflect 
that  their  yesterdays  ai'e  safe,  that  noth- 
ing is  forgotten ;  that  no  worthy  deed  has  fallen 
out  of  life;  that  yesterday  is  a  refuge  from 
conflict,  anxiety  and  fear. 

To  patriot  and  parent,  to  reformer  and 
teacher,  comes  the  inspiring  thought  that 
God  garners  in  His  memory  every  helpful 
act.  No  good  influence  is  lost  out  of  life. 
Are  David  and  Dante  dead?  Ai'e  not  Ten- 
nyson and  Milton  a  thousandfold  moi'e  alive 
to-day  than  when  they  walked  this  earth? 
Death  does  but  multiply  the  single  voice  and 

139 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

strengthen  it.  God  causes  each  life  to  fulfill 
the  legend  of  the  Grecian  traveler,  who, 
bearing  homeward  a  sack  of  corn,  sorrowed 
because  some  had  been  lost  out  through  a  tiny 
hole ;  but,  years  afterward,  fleeing  before  his  ene- 
mies along  that  way,  he  found  that  the  seed  had 
sprung  up  and  multiplied  into  harvests  for  his 
hunger.  Thus  yesterday  feeds  in  each  pilgrim 
heart  the  faith  that  goodness  shall  triumph. 
For  memory  that  is  little  in  man  is  large  in 
God.  The  Infinite  One  forg-ets  nothino;  save 
human  frailty  and  sin.  Remembering  the 
great  mind,  the  eloquent  tongue,  the  large 
purse,  God  remembers  also  the  cup  of  cold 
water,  and  causes  the  humblest  deed  to  follow 
its  doer  unto  the  heavenly  shores. 


The  Imagination  as  the  Architect 
OF  Manhood 


"Imagination  rules  the  world." — NapoLaoii. 

"  The  imagination  is  the  very  secret  and  marrow 
of  civilization.  It  is  the  very  eye  of  faith.  The  soul 
without  imagination  is  what  an  observatory  would  be 
without  a  telescope." — Beecher. 

"  In  such  natures  the  imagination  seems  to  spire 
up  like  a  Gothic  cathedral  over  a  prodigiously  solid 
crypt  of  common  sense,  so  that  its  lightness  stands 
secure  on  the  consciousness  of  an  immovable  basis." 
— Lowell. 

"  Man's  reason  is  overhung  by  the  imagination.  It 
rains  rich  treasures  for  fertilizing  the  barren  soul." 
— Anon. 

"By  faith  Abraham  went  forth,  not  knowing 
whither  he  went. " — Hehrews. 


VII 

The  Imagination  as  the  Architect 
OF  Manhood 

/Vyi  EASURED  by  whatsoever  standard,  Moses 
^  '  '  was  the  one  colossal  man  of  antiquity.  It 
may  be  doubted  whether  nature  has  ever  pro- 
duced a  greater  mind.  When  we  consider  that 
law,  government  and  education  took  their  rise  in 
his  single  brain ;  when  we  remember  that  the 
commonwealths  of  to-day  rest  upon  founda- 
tions reared  by  this  jurist  of  the  desert;  when 
we  recall  his  poetic  and  literary  skill,  Moses 
stands  forth  clothed  with  the  proportions  and 
grandeur  of  an  all-comprehending  genius.  His 
intellect  seems  the  more  titanic  by  reason  of 
the  obstacles  and  romantic  contrasts  in  his 
career.  He  was  born  in  the  hut  of  a  slave,  but 
so  strikingly  did  his  genius  flame  forth  that  he 
won  the  approbation  of  the  great,  and  passed 
swiftly  from  the  slave  market  to  the  splendor 
of  Pharaoh's  palace. 

Fortunately,  his  youth  was  not  without 
the  refinements  and  accomplishments  of  the 
schools.  For  then  Egypt  was  the  one  ra- 
diant   spot    upon    earth.       At  a    time   when 

143 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

Greece  was  a  den  of  robbers  and  Rome  was 
unheard  of,  Memphis  was  gloriously  attract- 
ive. Schools  of  art  and  science  stood  along 
the  banks  of  the  Nile.  From  Thebes  Pyth- 
agoras carried  mathematics  into  Greece. 
From  Memphis  Solon  derived  his  wise  political 
precepts.  In  Luxor,  architecture  and  sculp- 
ture took  their  rise.  From  Cleopatra's  king- 
dom men  stole  the  obelisks  now  in  New  York 
and  London.  Moses'  opportunities  were  fully 
equaled  by  his  energy  and  ambition  to  excel. 
Even  in  his  youth  he  must  have  been  renowned 
for  his  administrative  genius. 

But  his  moral  grandeur  exceeded  his  men- 
tality. When  events  compelled  a  choice  be- 
tween the  luxury  of  the  court  and  the  love  of 
his  own  people,  he  did  not  hesitate,  for  he  was 
every  inch  a  hero.  In  that  crisis  he  forsook 
the  palace,  allied  himself  with  his  enslaved 
brethren,  and  went  forth  an  exile  of  the  desert. 
Nor  could  any  event  be  more  dramatic  than 
the  manner  of  his  return  to  Pharaoh's  palace. 
Single-handed,  he  undertook  the  emancipation 
of  a  nation.  Our  leaders,  through  vast  armies, 
achieved  the  freedom  of  our  slaves ;  this  soldier, 
single-handed,  freed  three  millions  of  bonds- 
men. Other  generals,  with  cannon,  have  cap- 
tured castles ;  this  man  beat  castles  down  with 
his  naked  fists.     And  when  he  had  achieved 

144 


The  Imagination 

froedom  for  his   people  he  led  them  into   the 
desert,  and  taught  the  crude  and  servile  slaves 
the  princij)l('s  of  !ii\v,  liberty  and  government. 
Under  his  guidance  the  mob  became  an  army; 
the    slaves  became  patriots  and  citizens;  the 
savages  wore  clothed  wilh  customs  and  institu- 
tions.     His  mind  became  a   university  for  mil- 
lions.    And  from   that  day  until  now  the  col- 
umns  of    society  have  followed    the   name   of 
Moses,  as  of  old  tlic  pilgrims  followed   the  pil- 
lar of  cloud  by  day  and  the   pillar  of  fire  by 
night.      Greater  name  history  does  not  hold, 
save  only  the  Name  that  is  above  every  name. 
Wise  men  will  ask,  where  were  the  hidings 
of  this  man's  power?     Whence  came  his  her- 
culean strength?      Moses   was  the  father  of  a 
race  of  giants.     He  was  the  representative  of 
brave  men  in  every  age,  who  have  laid  founda- 
tions upon  which   others  have  buildcd;  he  was 
the  prototype  of  noble  leaders  who  have  scat- 
tered everywhere  the  seeds  of  civilization,  and 
left  others  to  reap  the  harvests;  he  was  the 
forerunner  of  innumerable  reformers  and  in- 
ventors, to  whom  it  was  never  given  to  enter 
into  the  fruit  of  their  labors ;  of  soldiers  and 
heroes    who    perished    on    the   scaffold    that 
others    might    be   emancipated;    of    men    like 
Huss  and  Cranmer,  whose  overthrow  and  de- 
feat paved  the  way  for  others'  victories.     Dy- 

145 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

ing,  no  other  man  has  left  behind  influences 
that  have  wrought  so  powei'fully  or  so  contin- 
uously through  the  centuries.  But  when  we 
search  out  the  springs  of  his  power  we  are 
amazed  at  his  secret.  We  are  told  that  he  en- 
dured his  tremendous  burdens  and  achieved  the 
impossible  through  the  sight  of  the  invisible. 
The  sense  of  futm-e  victory  sustained  him  in 
present  defeat.  Through  the  right  use  of  the 
vision  faculty  he  conquered. 

Imagination  was  the  telescope  by  which 
he  saw  victory  afar  off.  Imagination  was  the 
tool  with  which  he  digged  and  quarried  his 
foundations.  Imagination  was  the  castle  and 
tower  under  which  he  found  refuge  from  the 
storms,  attacks  and  afflictions  of  life.  No 
wing  ever  had  such  power  for  lifting,  no  spring 
ever  had  such  tides  for  assuaging  thirst.  He 
bore  with  savages,  because  afar  off  he  saw  the 
slaves  clothed  with  the  qualities  of  patriots. 
He  endured  the  desert,  because  imagination  re- 
vealed a  fruitful  land  flowing  with  milk  and 
honey.  He  survived  lawlessness,  because  he 
foresaw  the  day  of  law  and  liberty.  He  bore 
up  under  weight  of  cares,  discouragements  and 
responsibilities  heavy  enough  to  have  crushed 
a  score  of  men,  because  he  foresaw  the  day 
of  final  triumph.  Of  old,  when  that  leg- 
endary    hero     was     in     the      thick     of      his 

146 


The  Imafrination 


o' 


fight  against  his  enemies,  an  invisible  friend 
hovered  above  the  warrior,  handing  forth 
spear  and  sword  as  they  were  needed.  So  for 
the  great  jurist  imagination  reached  up  even 
into  the  heavenly  armory  and  plucked  such 
weapons  as  the  hero  needed. 

Our  intellectual  tread  will  be  firmer  if  we 
define  the  imagination  and  consider  its  uses. 
The  soul  is  a  city;  and  the  external  senses  are 
gateways  through  which  sweep  all  the  caravans 
of  truth  and  beauty.  Through  the  eye  gate 
pass  all  faces,  cities  and  landscapes.  Through 
the  ear  gate  pass  all  sweet  sounds.  But  when 
the  facts  of  land  and  sea  and  sky  have  reported 
themselves  to  the  soul,  reason  sweeps  these 
intellectual  harvests  into  the  granary  of  mem- 
ory for  future  sowing.  But  these  harvests 
must  be  arranged.  In  the  Orient  the  mer- 
chant who  keeps  a  general  store  puts  the 
swords  and  spears  upon  one  shelf;  the  tapes- 
tries and  rugs  upon  another;  the  books  and 
manuscripts  upon  a  third;  and  each  thing  has 
its  own  shelf  and  drawer.  So  judgment 
comes  in  to  sort  knowledges,  and  puts  things 
useful  into  one  intellectual  shelf,  things  beau- 
tiful upon  another  shelf,  and  puts  things  true 
apart  by  themselves. 

Afterward  when  the    under-servant,   called 
reason,  has  accumulated  the  materials,  when 

147 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

memory  has  taken  care  of  them,  and  judgment 
has  classified  all,  then  the  constructive  imag- 
ination comes  in  to  create  new  objects.  Work- 
ing in  iron  and  steel,  the  imagination  of  Watt 
organizes  an  engine;  working  midst  the  colors 
beautiful,  the  imagination  paints  pictures; 
working  upon  marble  it  carves  statues;  work- 
ins  in  wood  and  stone  it  rears  cathedrals ;  work- 
ing  in  sound  it  creates  symphonies;  working 
with  ideas  it  fashions  intellectual  systems ;  work- 
ing in  morals  it  constructs  ethical  principles; 
working  toward  immortality,  it  bids  all  cooling 
streams,  fruitful  trees,  sweet  sounds,  all  noble 
friendships,  report  themselves  beyond  the 
grave.  For  faith  itself  is  but  the  imagination 
allied  with  confidence  that  God  is  able  to  real- 
ize man's  highest  ideals.  Imagination  there- 
fore is  a  prophet.  It  is  a  seer  for  the  soul.  It 
toils  as  artist  and  architect  and  creator.  It 
plants  hard  problems  as  seeds,  rears  these 
germs  into  trees,  and  from  them  garners  the 
ripe  fruit.  It  wins  victory  before  battles  are 
fought.  Without  it,  civilization  Avould  be  im- 
possible. What  we  call  progress  is  but  so- 
ciety following  after  and  realizing  the  visions, 
plans  and  patterns  of  the  imagination. 

Now  our  busy,  bustling  age  is  inclined  to 
under-estimate  the  imagination.  Men  cavil  at 
castle-building.     The  pragmatist  jeers  at  rev- 

148 


The  Imagination 

eries.  Mon  believe  in  stores,  and  goods  in 
them;  in  factories,  and  wealth  by  them;  men 
believe  in  houses  and  horses,  but  not  in  ideals. 
Nevertheless,  thoughts  and  dreams  are  the 
stuff  out  of  which  towns  and  cities  are  builded. 
We  may  despise  the  silent  dreamer,  but  in  the 
last  analysis  he  appears  the  real  architect  of 
states!  Immeasurable  the  })ractical  power  of 
the  vision  faculty  1  The  heroes  of  yesterday 
have  all  been  sustained — not  by  swords  and 
guns,  but  by  the  sight  of  the  invisible! 

Here  is  the  old  hero  in  his  dungeon  in  Florence. 
While  he  dozed,  the  night  before  he  was  to  be 
burned,  the  jailer  saw  a  rare,  sweet  smile  upon 
his  face.  "What  is  it?"  the  guard  asked.  "I 
hear  the  sounds  of  falling  chains,  and  their 
clannror  is  like  sweet  music  in  my  ears." 
Then,  with  smiling  face  he  went  to  his  martyr- 
dom. And  here  is  Michael  Angelo.  Grown 
old  and  blind,  he  gropes  his  way  into  the  gal- 
lery of  the  Vatican,  where  with  uplifted  face 
his  fingers  feel  their  way  over  the  torso  of 
Phidias.  Lingering  by  him  one  day  the  Car- 
dinal I'arnese  heard  the  old  sculptor  say: 
"  Great  is  this  marble;  greater  still  the  hand 
that  carved  it;  greatest  of  all,  the  God  who 
fashioned  the  sculptor.  I  still  learn!  I  still 
learn!"  And  he  too  went  forward  sustained 
by  his  vision  of  perfect  beauty. 

149 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

And  here  is  John  Huss,  looking  between  the 
iron  bars  of  his  prison  upon  an  army  of  pikes 
and  spears,  massed  before  his  jail;  but  the 
martyr  endured  his  danger  by  the  foresight  of 
the  day  when  the  swords  then  wielded  for  re- 
pression of  liberty  of  thought  would  flash  for 
its  emancipation.  And  here  is  Walter  Scott 
ruined  by  the  failure  of  his  publishers,  just  at 
the  hour  when  nature  whispered  that  he  had 
fulfilled  his  task  and  earned  his  respite.  But 
he  girded  himself  anew  for  the  battle,  and  sus- 
tained his  grievous  loss  through  the  foresight 
of  the  hour  when  the  last  debt  would  be  paid 
and  his  again  would  be  a  spotless  name.  And 
here  is  that  youth,  Emerson,  looking  out  upon 
a  world  full  of  noise  and  strife,  full  of  the  cries 
of  slaves  and  the  warfare  of  zealots.  He 
was  sustained  by  the  foresight  of  a  day 
when  God  would  breathe  peace  o'er  all  the 
scene.  With  hope  shining  in  his  face,  he 
began  to  "take  down  men's  idols  with  such 
reverence  that  it  seemed  an  act  of  wor- 
ship." And  what  shall  we  more  say?  By  the 
sight  of  the  invisible,  Dante  endured  his  scaf- 
fold; the  heroes,  hunted  like  partridges  upon 
the  mountains,  endured  their  caves  and  the 
winter's  cold;  martyrs  endured  the  scourge 
and  fagot.  In  every  age,  the  great,  by  the 
sight  of  the  invisible,  have  been  lifted  into  the 

150 


The  Imagination 

realms  of  tranquillity.  Outwardly,  there  may 
have  been  the  roar  and  boom  of  guns,  but  in- 
wardly men  were  lutes  with  singing  harps.  As 
the  householder  sitting  by  his  blazing  hearth 
thinks  not  of  the  sleet  and  hail  falling  on  the 
roof  of  slate,  so  the  soul  abides  in  peace  over 
which  has  been  reared  the  castle  and  covert 
of  God's  pi'esence. 

How  signal  a  place  does  the  imagination  hold 
in  the  realm  of  science  and  invention!  Reason 
itself  is  only  an  under-servant.  It  has  no  cre- 
ative skill.  Memory  makes  no  discoveries.  But 
the  imagination  is  a  wonder-worker.  One  day, 
chancing  upon  a  large  bone  of  the  mammoth  in 
the  Black  Forest,  Oken,  the  German  naturalist, 
exclaimed:  "This  is  a  part  of  a  spinal  column." 
The  eyes  of  the  scientist  saw  only  one  of  the  ver' 
tebrae,  but  to  that  one  bone  his  imagination 
added  frame,  limb  and  head,  then  clothed  the 
skeleton  with  skin,  and  saw  the  giant  of  ani- 
mals moving  through  the  forest.  In  that 
hour  the  imagination  wrought  a  revolution  in 
the  science  of  anatomy.  Similarly,  this  crea- 
tive faculty  in  Goethe  gave  botany  a  new 
scientific  basis.  Sitting  in  his  favorite  seat 
near  the  castle  of  Heidelberg  one  day,  the  great 
poet  was  picking  in  pieces  an  oak  leaf.  Sud- 
denly his  imagination  transformed  the  leaf. 
Under  its  touch  the  central  stalk  lifted  itself 

151 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

up  and  became  the  trunk  of  the  tree;  the  veins 
of  the  leaf  were  extended  and  became  boughs 
and  branches ;  each  filament  became  a  leaf  and 
spray;  the  imagination  revealed  each  petal  and 
stamen  and  pistil,  as  after  the  leaf  type,  and 
gave  a  new  philosophy  to  the  science  of  herbs 
and  shrubs.  When  a  pistachio  tree  in  Paris 
with  only  female  blossoms  suddenly  bore  nuts, 
the  mind  of  a  scientist  suggested  that  some 
other  rich  man  had  imported  a  tree  with  male 
flowers,  and  careful  search  revealed  that  tree 
many  miles  away. 

And  in  every  department  of  science  this  fac- 
ulty bridges  over  chasms  between  discovered 
truths.  Even  Newton's  discovery  was  the 
gift  of  imagination.  When  the  eyes  of  the 
scientist  saw  the  falling  apple  it  was  his  vision 
faculty  that  leaped  through  space  and  saw  the 
fallincr  moon.  When  the  western  trade  winds, 
blowing  for  weeks,  had  cast  the  drift  wood 
upon  the  shores  of  Spain,  Columbus'  eyes  fell 
not  only  upon  the  strange  wood  but  also  upon 
a  pebble  caught  in  the  crevice.  But  his  imag- 
ination leaped  from  the  pebble  to  the  Western 
continent  of  which  the  stone  was  a  part,  and 
from  the  tree  to  the  forest  in  which  it  gi'ew. 

This  faculty  has  performed  a  similar  work 
in  the  realm  of  mechanics.  Watt  tells  us  that 
his  engine  worked  in  his  mind  years  before  it 

152 


The  Imagination 

worked  in  his  shop.  In  his  biography,  Milton 
recognizes  the  beauty  of  the  trees  and  flowers 
he  culled  from  earth's  landscapes  and  gardens, 
but  in  his  "Paradise  Lost,"  his  imagination 
beheld  an  Eden  fairer  than  any  scene  ever 
found  on  earth.  Napoleon  believed  that  every 
battle  was  won  by  the  imagination.  While  his 
soldiers  slept,  the  great  Corsican  marshaled 
his  troops,  hurled  them  against  the  enemy, 
and  won  the  victory  in  his  mind  the  night  be- 
fore the  battle  was  fought.  Even  the  orator 
like  Webster  must  be  described  as  one  who 
sees  his  argument  in  the  air  before  he  writes 
it  upon  the  page,  just  as  Handel  thought  he 
heard  the  music  falling  from  the  sky  more 
rapidly  than  his  hand  could  fasten  the  notes 
upon  the  musical  bars.  Thus  every  new  tool 
and  picture,  every  new  temple  or  law  or  re- 
form, has  been  the  imagination's  gift  to  man. 
Nor  has  the  case  been  different  with  men  in 
the  humbler  walks  of  life.  Multitudes  are 
doomed  to  delve  and  dig.  Three-fourths  of 
the  race  live  on  the  verge  of  poverty.  The 
energies  of  most  men  are  consumed  in  support- 
ing the  wants  of  the  body.  It  is  given  to  mul- 
titudes to  descend  into  the  coal  mine  ere  the 
day  is  risen,  to  emerge  only  when  night  has 
fallen.  Other  multitudes  toil  in  the  smithy  or 
tend   the    loom.      The    division    of    labor    has 

153 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

closed  many  avenues  for  happiness  and  culture. 
The  time   was   when   the   village  cobbler  was 
primarily   a  citizen,    and    only   incidentally  a 
shoemaker.     In  the  old  New  England  days  the 
cobbler    owned    his    garden    and    knew    the 
orchard;  owned  his  horse  and  knew  the  care  of 
animals ;  had  his  special  duties  in  relation  to 
school  and  church,  and,  therefore,  was  a  stu- 
dent   of  all   public   questions.      But  tending  a 
machine  that  clinches   tacks,  cabins  and  con- 
fines the  soul.      The  man  who  begins  as  a  citi- 
zen ends  an  appendage   to  a  wheel.     The  life 
of  many  becomes  a  treadmill  existence.     Year 
in  and  year  out  they  tend  some  spindle.     Now 
this  drudgery  of  modern   life  threatens  happi- 
ness and  manhood.      Therefore  it  was  ordained 
that  while  the  hand  digs  the  mind  may  soar. 
While  Henry  Clay's  hands  were  hoeing  corn 
in    that   field    in    Kentucky,  through    his    im- 
agination the  young  orator  was  standing  in  the 
halls  of  Congress.      What  orations  he  wrote  I 
What  arguments    he    fashioned  !     Each    time 
his  hoe  cut  down  a  weed,  his  mind  with  an  ar- 
gument hewed  down  an  opponent.      Never  was 
there  a  tool  for  hoeing  corn  like  unto   the  im- 
agination !     Christine  Nilsson   tells  that  once 
she  toiled  as  a  flower  girl  at  the  country  fairs 
in  Sweden.     But  all  the  time    she  delved  she 
was  dreaming,  and  by  her  very  dreams  making 

154 


The  Imagination 

herself  strong  against  the  day  when  she  would 
charm  vast  audiences  with  celestial  music. 
What  battles  the  plowboys  have  fought  in 
dreams  1  What  orations  they  have  pronounced  1 
What  reforms  they  have  achieved  !  W^hat  tools 
invented  I  What  books  written  1  What  busi- 
ness reared  I  Thus  the  imagination  shortens 
the  hours  of  labor  and  sweetens  toil.  While 
the  body  tires,  the  soul  soars  and  sings. 

This  young  foreigner  newly  arrived  in  our  city 
digs  downward  with  his  spade,  but  his  imag- 
ination works  upward  into  the  realm  of  the 
invisible.  He  endures  the  ditch  and  the 
spade  through  foresight  of  the  day  when 
his  playmate  will  come  over  the  sea; 
when  together  they  will  own  a  little  house, 
and  have  a  garden  with  vines  and  flowers,  with 
a  little  path  leading  down  to  "  the  spring 
where  the  water  bubbles  out  day  and  night 
like  a  little  poem  from  the  heart  of  the  earth;" 
when  they  will  have  a  little  competence,  so  that 
the  sweet  babe  shall  not  want  for  knowledge. 
By  that  dream  the  youth  sustains  his  loneliness 
and  poverty;  by  that  dream  he  conquers  his 
vices  and  passions;  at  last  through  that  dream 
he  is  lifted  up  to  the  rank  of  a  patriot  and 
worthy  citizen.  Nor  shall  you  find  one  hard- 
worked  man  caught  to-morrow  in  life's  swirl 
who  does  not  endure  the  strife,  the  rivalry  and 

155 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

the  selfishness  of  the  street  with  this  gift 
divine.  It  is  the  noblest  instrument  of  the 
soul.  Thereby  are  the  heavens  opened.  Im- 
agination is  the  poor  man's  friend  and  saviour. 
Imagination  is  God  whispering  to  the  soul 
what  shall  be  when  time  and  the  divine  re- 
sources have  accomplished  their  work  upon 
man. 

And  when  imaq-iuation  has  achieved  for  man, 
his  progress,  happiness,  and  cultui'e,  it  goes 
on  to  help  him  to  gain  personal  worth  and  char- 
acter. Above  every  noble  soul  hangs  a  vision, 
of  things  hio;her,  better  and  sweeter.  It 
causes  the  best  men  even  in  their  best  moods 
to  feel  that  better  things  still  are  possible.  By 
sweet  visions  it  tempts  men  upward,  just  as  of 
old  the  bees  were  lured  onward  by  the  honey 
dropped  through  the  hunter's  hands.  The  vi- 
sion of  a  higher  manhood  discontents  men 
with  to-day's  achievement  and  takes  the  flavor 
out  of  yesterday's  victory.  In  such  hours 
it  is  not  enough  that  men  have  bread  and 
raiment,  or  are  better  than  their  fellows.  The 
soul  is  filled  with  nameless  yearnings  and  long- 
ings. The  deeper  convictions,  long  hidden, 
begin  to  stir  and  strain,  even  as  in  June  the 
seed  aches  with  its  hidden  harvest. 

Though  the  youth  still  pursues,  he  never 
overtakes  his  ideal.     In  the  process  of  trans- 

156 


The  Imagination 

mutation  into  life  the  ideal  is  injured  and 
dwarfed.  Just  as  the  poet's  vision  is  trau- 
scendently  more  beautiful  than  the  song  he 
writes  upon  the  page;  as  the  artist's  dream  is 
a  glorious  creation,  but  his  picture  is  only  a 
photograph  thereof;  as  the  musician's  song  or 
symphony  is  but  an  echo  of  the  ethereal  music 
he  heard  in  his  soul,  so  every  purpose  and 
ideal  is  marred  in  the  etfort  to  give  it  expres- 
sion and  embodiment. 

These  children  of  aspiration  hold  the  secret 
of  all  progress  for  society.  Just  as  of  old 
artists  drew  the  outline  of  ii-lowiufr  and  glorious 
pictures,  and  then  with  bits  of  colored  glass 
and  precious  stones  filled  up  the  mosaic, 
causing  angels  and  seraphs  to  stand  forth 
in  lustrous  beauty,  so  imagination  lifts  up 
before  the  youth  its  glowing  plans  and  pur- 
poses, and  asks  him  to  give  himself  to  the 
details  of  life  in  filling  it  up  and  perfecting 
a  glorious  character.  The  patterns  of  life  are 
only  given  upon  that  holy  mount  where,  midst 
clouds  and  darkness,  dwell  God  and  the  hisrher 
imagination. 

But  if  the  imagination  has  its  use,  it  has  its 
abuse  also.  If  visions  of  truth  and  beauty  can 
exalt,  visions  of  vice  can  debase  and  degrade.  In 
that  picture  where  Faust  and  Satan  battle  to- 
gether for  the  scholar's  soul,  the  angels    share 

I57-- 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

in  the  conflict.  Plucking  the  roses  of  Para- 
dise, they  fling  them  over  the  battlements 
down  upon  the  heads  of  the  combatants.  When 
the  roses  fall  on  Faust  they  heal  his  wounds  ; 
when  they  fall  on  Satan  they  turn  into  coals  of 
fire.  Thus  the  imagination  casts  inspirations 
down  upon  the  pui'e,  but  smites  the  evil  into 
the  abyss.  'The  miseries  of  men  of  genius  like 
Burns  are  perpetual  warnings  to  youth  against 
the  riotings  of  imagination.  There  are  poems, 
also  novels  and  lurid  scenes  in  the  city,  hanging 
pictures  before  the  imagination  and  scorching 
the  soul  like  flames  of  fire.  For  as  of  old  so  now, 
what  a  man  imagineth  in  his  heart  that  he  is. 
For  not  what  a  man  does  outwardly,  but  what 
he  dreams  inwardly,  determines  his  character. 
Most  men  are  better  than  we  think,  but 
some  men  are  worse.  As  steam  in  the  boiler 
makes  itself  known  by  hisses,  so  the  evil  im- 
aginings heave  and  strain,  seeking  escape. 
Many  forbear  vice  and  crime  through  fear  ; 
their  conscience  is  cowardice  ;  if  they  dared 
they  would  riot  through  life  like  the  beasts  of 
the  field  ;  if  all  their  inner  imaginings  were  to 
take  an  outward  expression  in  deeds,  they  would 
be  scourges,  plagues  and  pests.  In  the  si- 
lence of  the  soul  they  commit  every  vice.  But 
they  who  sow  the  wind  shall  reap  the  whirl- 
wind ;  the  revealing  day  will  come  when  the  films 

158 


The  Imagination 

of  life  shall  be  withdrawn,  and  the  character 
shall  appear  faithful  as  a  portrait,  and  then 
all  the  meanness  and  sliminess  shall  be  seen 
to  have  given  something  to  the  soul's  pic- 
ture. Oh,  be  warned  against  these  dreams, 
all  ye  young  hearts  I  The  indulgence  of  the 
imagination  is  like  the  sultriness  of  a  summer's 
day;  what  began  so  fair  ends  with  sharp  light- 
nings and  thunder.  How  terrible  is  this  word 
to  evil-doers!  "As  a  man  thinketh  in  his 
heart,  so  is  he." 

It  is  also  given  to  this  vision  faculty  to  re- 
deem men  out  of  oppression  and  misfortune, 
and  through  its  intimations  of  royalty  to  lend 
victory  and  peace.  Oft  the  days  are  full  of 
storms  and  turbulence;  oft  events  gi'ow  bad  as 
heart  can  wish;  full  oft  the  next  step  promises 
the  precipice.  There  are  periods  in  every 
career  when  troubles  are  so  strangely  increased 
that  the  world  seems  like  an  orb  let  loose  to 
wander  widely  through  space.  In  these  dark 
hours  some  endure  their  pain  and  trouble 
through  dogged,  stoical  toughness.  Then  men 
imitate  the  turtle  as  it  draws  in  its  head  and 
neck,  saying  to  misfortune:  "Behold  the 
shell,  and  beat  on  that."  But,  God  be  thanked! 
victory  over  trouble  has  been  ordained.  In 
the  blackest  hour  of  the  storm  it  is  given  to 
the  vision  faculty  to  lift  man  into  the  realm  of 

159 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

tranquillity.  As  travelers  in.  the  jungle  climb 
the  trees  at  night  and  draw  the  ladder  up  after 
them,  and  dwell  above  the  reach  of  wild  beasts 
and  serpents,  so  the  soul  in  its  higher  moods 
ascends  into  the  realms  of  peace  and  rest.  In 
that  dark  hour  just  before  Jesus  Christ  entered 
into  the  cloud  and  darkness,  and  fronted  His 
grievous  suffering,  He  called  His  disciples 
about  Him  and  uttered  that  discourse  be- 
ginning: "Let  not  your  hearts  be  troubled." 
Strange  wonder  words;  words  of  matchless 
genius  and  beauty. 

Moreover,  the  vision  faculty  furnishes  man 
his  idea  and  picture  of  God.  Many  suppose 
that  all  that  is  necessary  to  understand  the 
divine  nature  is  that  it  should  be  stated  dis- 
tinctly in  language.  Gi'eater  error  there 
could  not  be.  There  can  be  no  language  for 
causing  a  little  child  to  understand  the  larger 
truths  of  heroism,  art  or  government.  The 
unripe  cannot  understand  the  mature.  Each 
mind  must  paint  its  own  picture  of  God. 
Nature  itself  is  but  a  palette  upon  which  God 
draws  her  portrait.  Reason  furnishes  the 
materials  and  truths  about  God,  and  the 
imagination  unites  them  in  some  noble  concep- 
tion of  His  all-helpful  nature.  Everything  in 
nature  that  has  power  or  beauty  or  benefit  has 
received    it   from    God.       Moving   along   the 

1 60 


The  Imatrination 


fe' 


Alpine  valleys  the  traveler  sees  huge  bowlders 
lying  in  the  stream,  and,  looking  to  the  moun- 
tain side,  his  eye  rests  upon  the  very  cliff 
from  which  the  bowlder  fell.  Thus  discerning 
the  noble  qualities  in  mother  or  patriot,  in  hero 
or  friend,  we  trace  their  beautiful  qualities 
back  to  God,  from  whom  all  noble  souls  borrow 
their  excellence.  In  the  largest  sense  all  the 
elements  of  pov/er  in  sea  and  sky  and  sun,  all 
the  beauty  of  the  fields  and  forests,  of  sum- 
mers and  winters,  arc  letters  in  nature's 
alphabet  for  spoiling  out  the  name  of  God.  As 
a  diamond  has  many  facets,  and  every  one 
reflects  the  sun,  so  the  universe  itself  is  a  gem 
whose  every  facet  reflects  the  mind  and  genius 
of  God. 

"When  reason  has  culled  out  of  life  and 
nature  everything  that  excites  awe  or  admira- 
tion, everything  that  represents  bounty 
and  beauty,  then  imagination  lifts  up  all 
these  ideals  and  sweeps  them  together  and 
melts  them  into  one  glowing  and  glorious  con- 
ception of  the  God  of  power,  wisdom  and 
love.  But  even  then  the  heart  whispers: 
"He  is  that,  and  infinitely  more  than  that, 
even  as  the  sun  is  more  than  the  little  taper 
man  has  made."  But  if  the  reason  and 
memory,  through  misuse,  furnish  but  few  of  the 
truths  about  God,  and  if  the  imagination  has 

i6i 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

been  weakened  in  its  power,  then  how  poor  the 
picture  the  soul  paints! 

What  scant,  feeble  portraits  of  God  some  men 
have!  What  can  an  Eskimo,  whose  highest 
conception  of  summer  is  a  stunted  bush,  know 
of  tropical  orchards,  of  luscious  peach,  pear  and 
plum?  If  the  student  has  seen  only  the 
broken  fragments  of  Phidias,  what  can  he 
know  of  the  Parthenon  as  it  once  stood  in  the 
zenith  of  its  perfection,  in  the  splendor  of  its 
beauty?  But  if  man's  reason  can  cull  out  all 
the  lustrous  facts  of  nature  and  history,  and  if 
his  imagination  has  strength  and  skill  to  bring 
them  all  together,  then  how  beautiful  will  be  the 
face  and  name  of  God!  That  name  will  fill  his 
soul  with  music.  That  thought  will  set  his 
heart  vibrating  with  tumultuous  joy.  If  all  the 
air  were  filled  with  invisible  bells,  and  angels 
were  the  ringers,  and  music  fell  in  waves  as 
sweet  as  melted  amethyst  and  pearl,  we  should 
have  that  which  would  answer  to  the  sweetness 
that  by  day  and  night  rains  down  upon  the 
hearts  of  those  who  approach  God — not  through 
the  eye  nor  ear,  not  through  argument  nor  judg- 
ment, but  through  the  heart,  through  the 
imagination,  as  they  endure,  beholding  Him 
who  is  invisible. 


162 


The  Enthusiasm  of  Friendship 


"  He  that  walketh  witli  wise  men  shall  be  wise." — 
Solomon. 

"The  only  way  to  have  a  friend  is  to  be  one." — 
Emerson. 

"A  talent  is  perfected  in  solitude;  a  character  in 
the  stream  of  the  world."  — Ooethe. 

"It  is  certain  that  either  wise  bearing^  or  ignorant 
carriage  is  caught  as  men  take  diseases,  one  of  an- 
other ;  therefore  let  men  take  heed  of  their  company." 
— Shakespeare. 

"  Beyond  all  wealth,  honor  or  even  health,  is  the 
attachment  we  form  to  noble  souls,  because  to  be- 
come one  with  the  good,  generous  and  true,  is  to  be- 
come, in  a  measure,  good,  generous  and  true  oiir- 
selves." — Tliomas  Arnold. 

"Cicero  said:  'Friendship  can  make  riches  splen- 
did.' Friendship  can  plan  many  things  for  its  wealth 
to  execute.  It  can  plan  a  good  winter  evening  for  a 
group,  and  it  can  plan  an  afternoon  for  a  hundred 
children.  It  can  roll  in  a  Christmas  log  for  a  large 
hearth.  It  can  spread  happiness  to  the  right  and 
left.  It  can  spend  money  most  beautifully  and  make 
gold  to  shine.  Civilization  itself  is  of  the  heart." — 
Swing. 


VIII 

The  Enthusiasm  of  Friendship 

DESTINY  is  determined  by  friendship.    For- 
tune is  made  or  marred  when  the  youth  se- 
lects his  companions.     Friendship  has  ever  been 
the  master-passion  ruling  the  forum,  the  court, 
the  camp.      The  power  of  love  is  God-breathed, 
and  life  has  nothing  like  love  for  majesty  and 
beauty.     Civilization  itself  is  more  of  the  heart 
than  of  the  mind.     As   an   eagle  cannot  rise 
with  one  wing,  so  the  soul  ascends  borne   up 
equally  by  reason  and  affection.      Plato  found 
the  measure  of  greatness  in  a  man's  capacity 
for  exalted  friendship.     All  the  great  ones  of 
history  stand  forth  as  unique  in  some  master 
passion    as    in    their   intellectual    supremacy. 
Witness  David  and  Jonathan,    wdth   love  sur- 
passing the  love  of  women.     Witness  Socrates 
and  his  group  of  immortal  friends.     Witness 
Dante  and  his  deathless  love  for  Beatrice.   Wit- 
ness Tennyson  and  his  refrain  for  Arthur  Hal- 
lam.     Witness  the  disciples  and  Christ,  with 
"love  as  strong  as  death." 

165 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

Sweetness  is  not  more  truly  the  essence  of 
music  than  is  love  the  very  soul  of  a  deep, 
strong,  harmonious  manhood.  Friendship 
cheers  like  a  sunbeam;  charms  like  a  good 
story;  inspires  like  a  brave  leader;  binds  like 
a  golden  chain;  guides  like  a  heavenly  vision. 
To  love  alone  is  it  given  to  wrestle  victoriously 
with  death. 

Lord  Bacon  said:  "He  who  lovesf  solitude  is 
either  a  wild  beast  or  a  god."  The  normal 
man  is  gregarious.  He  wants  companionship. 
The  very  cattle  go  in  herds.  The  fishes  go  in 
shoals.  The  bees  go  in  swarms.  And  men 
come  together  in  families  and  cities.  As  men 
go  up  toward  greatness  their  need  of  friendship 
increases.  No  mind  of  the  first  order  was 
ever  a  hermit.  Modern  literature  enshrines 
the  friendships  of  the  great  and  makes  them 
memorable.  "While  letters  last,  society  will 
never  forget  Charles  Lamb  and  his  compan- 
ions; Dr.  Johnson  and  his  immortal  group; 
Petrarch  and  his  helpless  dependence  upon 
Laura;  while  the  letters  of  Abelard  and  Helo- 
ise  enshrine  them  in  everlastinrr  remembrance. 

In  all  literature  there  is  no  more  touching 
death-bed  scene  than  that  of  the  patriarch 
Jacob.  Dying,  the  Prince  forgot  his  gold  and 
silver,  his  herds  and  lands.  Lifted  up  upon 
his  pillows,  in  tremulous   excitement  he   took 

i66 


Enthusiasm  of  Friendship 

upon  his  lips  two  names — God  and  Rachel. 
More  than  a  score  of  years  had  passed  since 
her  death,  but  in  that  memorable  hour  the 
great  man  built  a  monument  to  her  who  had 
fed  his  joy  and  deepened  his  life. 

Friendship  carries  a  certain  fertilizing  force. 
All  biographers  tell  us  that  each  epoch  in 
a  hero's  life  was  ushered  in  by  a  new  friend. 
When  Schiller  met  Goethe  every  latent  tal- 
ent awakened.  The  poet's  friendship  caused 
the  youth  to  grow  by  leaps  and  bounds.  Once, 
returning  home  after  a  brief  visit  to  Goethe's 
house,  one  exclaimed :  "  I  am  amazed  by  the 
progress  Schiller  can  make  within  a  single 
fortnight!"  Perhaps  this  explains  why  the 
great  seem  to  come  in  gi'oups.  Thrust  an  Em- 
erson into  any  Concord,  and  his  pungent  pres- 
ence will  penetrate  the  entire  region.  Soon 
all  who  come  within  the  radius  of  his  life  re- 
spond to  his  presence,  as  flowers  and  trees  re- 
spond with  boughs  brilliant  and  fragrant  to  the 
sunshine  when  spring  I'eplaces  the  icy  winter. 
After  a  little  time,  each  Emerson  stands  girt 
about  with  Hawthoi'nes,  Whittiers,  Holmeses, 
and  Lowells.  The  greatness  of  each  Milton 
lingei'S  in  his  friends,  Cromwell  and  Hampden, 
as  the  sun  lingers  in  the  clouds  after  the  day 
is  done.  Therefore  the  great  epics  and  dramas, 
fx'om  the  Iliad  to  the  Idylls  of  the  King,    are 

167 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

stories  of  friendships.  Take  love  out  of  our 
greatest  literature,  and  it  is  like  taking  a  sweet 
babe  out  of  the  clothes  that  cover  it.  Man 
listens  eagerly  to  tales  of  eloquence  and  hero- 
ism, but  loves  most  of  all  the  stories  of  the 
heart.  God  is  not  more  truly  the  life  of  dead 
matter  than  is  love  the  very  life  of  man. 

Now,  the  secret  of  eminence  in  the  realm  of 
industry  or  art  or  invention  is  this:  that  the 
worker  has  wrou«:ht  in  his  luminous  mental 
moods.  In  its  passive,  inert  states,  the 
mind  is  receptive.  Then  reason  is  like  a 
sheathed  sword.  Thought  must  be  struck 
forth  as  fire  is  struck  from  flint.  But  under  in- 
spirational moods  the  mind  begins  to  glow  and 
kindle.  Then  the  reason  of  the  orator,  the 
poet  or  reformer  ceases  to  be  like  a  taper, 
needing  a  match  to  light  it,  and  becomes  a 
sun,  blazing  with  its  own  radiance.  Spencer 
wi'ote:  "  By  no  political  alchemy  can  we  get 
golden  conduct  out  of  leaden  instincts."  Thus 
there  is  no  necromancy  by  v/hich  the  mind  can 
get  superior  work  out  of  its  inferior  moods. 

When,  then,  reason  appi'oaches  its  task  under 
the  inspiration  of  enthusiasm  and  love,  nature 
yields  up  all  her  secrets.  Here  is  the  author 
sitting  down  to  write.  Memory  refuses  facts, 
and  I'eason  declines  to  create  fictions.  The 
mind  is  dull  and  dead.     Suddenly  the  step  of 

i68 


Enthusiasm  of  Friendship 

some  friend  long  absent  is  heard  at  the  door. 
Then  how  do  the  faculties  awake!  Tlirou}j;h 
all  the  long  winter  evening,  the  mind  brings 
forth  its  treasures  of  wit,  of  anecdote,  of 
instructive  fact  and  charming  allusion. 
Here  is  some  Edison,  with  an  enthusiasm  for 
invention,  who  found  his  electric  lamps  that 
burned  well  for  a  month  had  suddenly  gone 
out,  and  read  in  the  morning  paper  the  judg- 
ment of  the  scientist  that  his  electric  bulb  was 
a  good  toy  but  a  poor  tool. 

In  his  enthusiasm  for  his  work,  the  man  ex- 
claimed, "I  will  make  a  statue  of  that  pro- 
fessor, and  illumine  him  with  electric  lamps, 
and  make  his  ignorance  memorable."  Then 
Edison  went  away  to  begin  a  series  of  experi- 
ments that  drove  sleep  from  his  eyes  and 
slumber  fi-om  his  eyelids  through  five  suc- 
cessive days  and  nights,  until  love  and  en- 
thusiasm helped  reason  to  wrest  victory  from 
defeat. 

Here  is  the  boy  Mozart,  with  his  love  of 
music,  toiling  through  the  long  days  at 
tasks  he  hated,  and  in  the  darkening  twilight 
stealing  into  the  old  church,  where  he  poured 
out  his  vei-y  soul  over  the  organ  keys,  sob- 
bing out  his  mournful  melodies.  Here  is 
Lincoln,  with  his  enthusiasm  for  books,  coming 
in  at  nio-ht  all  aching  with  cold  and  wet,  and 

169 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

rising  when  parents  slept,  to  roll  another  log 
upon  the  blazing  hearth,  while  midst  the  grate- 
ful heat  his  eager  eyes  searched  out  the  treas- 
ures that  lay  along  the  line  of  the  printed 
page,  until  his  min-d  grew  rich  and  strong. 
And  here  are  the  Scottish  clansmen  and 
patriots,  for  love's  sake,  following  the  noble 
chieftain,  their  hearts  all  aflame,  who,  if  they 
had  a  hundred  lives,  would  gladly  have  given 
them  all  for  their  heroic  leader.  And  here  is 
the  orator  rising  to  plead  the  cause  of  the 
savacre,  and  of  the  slave,  before  men  who  feel 
no  sympathy,  and  are  as  castles  locked  and 
barred.  But  the  love  for  the  poor  shines  in 
Wendell  Phillips'  eyes,  trembles  in  his  voice, 
pleads  in  his  thinking,  until  the  multitude  be- 
come all  plastic  to  his  thought,  and  his  smile 
becomes  their  smile,  his  tear  their  tear,  the 
throb  of  his  heart  the  throb  of  the  whole  as- 
sembly. Here  is  the  Scottish  girl,  in  love 
with  truth,  standing  midst  the  sea,  within  the 
clutches  of  the  incoming  tide.  She  is  bound 
down  midst  the  rising  waters.  Doomed  is  she 
and  soon  must  die.  But  her  eyes  are  turned 
upward  toward  the  sky,  and  a  great  sweet 
liffht  is  on  her  face  that  tells  us  enthusiasm 
and  love  in  her  have  been  victorious  over  death. 
Truly,  that  Gi'eek  did  well  to  call  enthusiasm 
"a  god   within,"    for  love  is    stronger   than 

death. 

170 


Enthusiasm  of  Friendship 

The  historian  tells  us  that  all  the  liberties, 
reforms  and  political  achievements  of  society 
have  been  gained  by  nations  thrilling  and 
throbbing  to  one  great  enthusiasm.  The  Re- 
naissance does  not  mean  a  single  Dante,  nor 
Boccaccio,  but  a  national  enthusiasm  and  a 
"god  within  all  minds,"  The  Reformation  is 
not  a  single  Savonarola,  nor  Luthei',  but  a 
universal  enthusiasm  and  "a  god  within,"  all 
heart  and  conscience.  If  we  study  these 
movements  of  society  as  typified  by  their 
leaders,  these  heroes  stand  forth  before  us 
with  hearts  all  aflame  and  with  minds  that 
grow  like  suns.  In  times  of  great  danger  men 
develop  unsuspected  physical  sti'ength,  and  the 
force  of  the  whole  body  seems  to  rush  upward 
and  compact  itself  with  the  thumb  or  fist. 
And  in  the  mental  world  lawyers  and  oi'ators 
tell  us  that  at  heated  crises,  when  great  issues 
hang  upon  their  words,  the  memory  achieves 
feats  otherwise  impossible.  In  these  hours  the 
mind  becomes  luminous.  All  the  experience 
of  the  past  passes  before  the  orator  with  the 
majesty  of  a  mighty  wave  or  a  rushing  storm. 
Similarly,  the  hero  inflamed  with  love  or 
liberty  becomes  invincible.  When  some  Gar- 
ibaldi or  Lincoln  appears,  and  the  people  be- 
hold his  greatness  and  beauty  and  magna- 
nimity, every  heart  catches  the  sacred  passion. 

171 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

Then  the  narrow-minded  youth  tumbles  down 
his  little  idols,  sets  up  diviner  ideals,  and  finds 
new  measurements  for  the  thrones  of  heaven 
and  earth.  Then,  in  a  great  abandonment  of 
love,  the  nation  pours  out  its  heart  for  the 
cause  it  loves. 

Froude  tells  us  that  self-government  has  cost 
mankind  hundreds  of  wars  and  thousands  of 
battle-fields.  Tennyson  writes  of  the  boy  who 
was  following  his  father's  plow  when  the  share 
turned  up  a  human  skull.  There,  where  the 
plow  stayed,  the  patriot  had  fallen  in  battle. 
Sitting  upon  the  furrow  with  the  child  upon 
his  knee,  the  father  caused  his  boy  to  see  a 
million  men  in  arms  fighting  for  some  great 
principle;  to  see  the  battle-fields  all  red  with 
blood;  the  hillsides  all  billowy  with  graves; 
caused  him  to  hear  the  shrieking  shot  and  shell ; 
pointed  out  the  army  of  cripples  hobbling 
homeward.  When  the  child  shivered  in  fear 
the  father  whispei'ed,  "  Your  ancestors  would 
have  gladly  died  daily  for  the  liberty  they 
loved."  And  if  to-day  good  men  bi'ood  over 
the  wrongs  of  Armenia,  and  breathe  a  silent 
prayer  for  those  who  struggle  against  des- 
perate odds  and  "the  unspeakable  Turk,"  and  if 
to-morrow  and  on  the  morrow's  morrow 
editors  and  orators  unite  in  words  of  sympathy 
and  encouragement  for  the  patriots  fighting  in 

172 


Enthusiasm  of  Friendship 

some  Cuba,  it  is  because  we  believe  the  love  of 
liberty  implies  the  right  to  liberty;  that  des- 
potism corrupts  manhood;  that  self-govern- 
ment is  the  best  for  industry,  the  best  for  in- 
tegrity, the  best  for  intelligence.  If  the  red 
plowshare  of  war  must  pass  through  the  soil  of 
the  nations,  may  it  bury  forever  the  seeds  of  op- 
pression and  injustice,  and  sow  for  future  gen- 
erations the  seeds  of  liberty,  intelligence  and 
religion! 

Moreover,  an  ovei'mastering  passion  is  the 
secret  of  all  eminence  in  scholarship.  Each 
autumn  the  golden  gates  of  learning  swing 
wide  to  welcome  the  thousands  who  enter 
our  colleges  and  universities.  If  it  were 
possible  for  each  young  student  to  sit  down 
and  speak  with  the  library  and  laboratory 
as  with  a  familiar  friend,  we  would  hear 
wisdom's  voice  uttering  one  report:  "I  love 
them  that  love  me."  None  of  those  foi-ms  of 
mental  wealth  called  art  or  science  or 
literature,  enters  the  mind  unasked  or  stays 
unurged.  All  the  shelves  ai'e  heavy  with  men- 
tal treasure,  but  only  the  eager  mind  may 
harvest  it.  Beauty  sleeps  in  all  the  quarries, 
but  only  the  eager  chisel  wakens  it.  Wealth 
is  in  every  crack  and  crevice  of  the  soil,  but 
nature  forbids  the  sluggard  to  mine  it.  Those 
forms  of  paradise    called   fame,   position,    in- 

173 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

fluence,  stand  with  gates  open  by  day  and 
night,  but  the  cherubim  with  flaming  swords 
wave  back  all  idle  youth.  When  the  Grecian 
king  set  forth  upon  his  expedition  he  stayed 
his  golden  chariot  at  the  market-place.  Lift- 
ing up  his  voice  he  forbade  any  man's  body  to 
enter  his  chariot  whose  heart  remained  behind. 
Thus  the  mind  is  a  chariot  that  sweeps  no  un- 
willing student  upward  toward  those  heights 
v/here  wisdom  and  happiness   dwell. 

To-day  our  young  men  and  women  stand  in  the 
midst  of  arts,  vast,  beautiful  and  useful ;  they  are 
surrounded  by  all  the  facts  of  man's  marvelous 
history;  they  breathe  an  atmosphere  charged 
with  I'efinement.  But  the  youth  who  hates  his 
books  might  as  well  be  the  poor  savage  lying 
on  the  banks  of  the  Niger,  whose  soul  sits  in 
silence  and  starves  to  death  in  a  silent 
dungeon.  Should  a  kind  heaven  give  us  the 
power  to  select  some  charmed  gift  to  be  dropped 
down  ujjon  our  youth,  parents  and  teachers 
could  ask  nothing  better  than  that  each  young 
heart  should  storm  the  gates  of  learning 
with  such  enthusiasm  as  belonged  to  Milton 
or  Epictetus.  The  Roman  slave  had  one  leg 
broken  and  twisted  by  a  cruel  master,  but  in 
his  enthusiasm  for  knowledge  he  used  the  dim 
light  of  his  cell  for  copying  the  thoughts  of 
great  authors,  and  lay  awake  at  night  I'eflect- 

174 


Enthusiasm  of  Friendship 

ing  upon  the  problems  of  life  and  death  with 
man's  mysterious  nature,  and  so  made  himself 
immortal  by  his  devotion  to  the  truth.  For 
the  student,  enthusiasm  is  indeed  "a  god  with- 
in." Ignorance  is  want  of  mental  animation. 
The  scientist  tells  us  the  Patagonians  sleep 
eighteen  hours  each  day,  with  a  tendency  to 
doze  through  the  other  six.  Their  minds  are 
unable  to  make  any  kind  of  movement,  and  the 
chief  once  told  Sir  John  Lubbock  that  he  would 
love  to  talk  were  it  not  that  large  ideas  made 
him  very   sleepy. 

But  it  is  all  in  vain  that  man  has  reason  or 
learning  or  imagination  if  these  talents  lie 
sleeping.  Not  long  ago  the  ruins  of  an  old  tem- 
ple were  discovered  in  Rome.  When  the  spade 
had  turned  u)i  the  soil,  lo,  seeds  long  hidden 
awakened  to  cover  the  soil  with  rich  verdure. 
For  2,000  years  these  germs  had  slept,  waiting 
for  the  day  of  warmth  and  quickening.  Thus 
each  faculty  of  man  is  latent,  until  some  pow- 
erful enthusiasm  passes  over  it.  Indeed,  men- 
tal power  is  not  in  the  multitude  of  knowl- 
edge acquired,  but  in  the  powerful  enthusi- 
asms that  drive  the  informed  soul  along  some 
noble  path.  Power  is  not  in  the  engine,  but 
in  the  steam  that  pounds  the  piston;  and  the 
soul  is  a  mechanism  driven  forward  by  those 
motives  called  enthusiasm  for  learning  or  in- 

175 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

fluence  or  wealth.  Success  might  be  defined 
as  a  full  casting  of  the  heart  into  some  worthy 
cause. 

It  is  high  time  that  our  young  men  should  rec- 
ognize that  prosperity  and  wealth  are  won  only 
when  the  mind  moves  enthusiastically  along 
the  pathway  of  industry.  Our  young  men 
have  been  deeply  injured  by  the  fact  that  now 
and  then  some  one  stumbles  upon  sudden 
wealth,  or  by  accident  gains  great  treasui'e. 
But  for  evei'y  one  such  fortunate  person, 
there  are  ten  thousand  who  have  failed  of  suc- 
cess for  want  of  a  purposeful  enthusiasm. 

The  Persians  have  a  strange  story  of  the 
Golconda  diamond  mines.  Once  Ali  Hafed  sat 
with  his  wife  looking  out  upon  the  river  that 
flowed  through  their  farm.  Soon  their  children 
came  through  the  trees  bringing  with  them  a 
traveler.  In  confidence  the  stranger  showed 
Ali  Hafed  a  diamond  that  shone  like  a  drop  of 
condensed  sunshine.  He  told  his  host  that  one 
large  diamond  was  worth  whole  mines  of  cop- 
per and  silver;  that  a  handful  would  make  him 
a  prince;  that  a  mine  of  diamonds  would  buy  a 
kingdom.  That  night  wealthy  Ali  Hafed  went 
to  bed  a  poor  man,  for  poverty  is  discontent. 
When  the  morning  came  he  sold  his  farm  for 
gold,  and  went  forth  in  search  of  diamonds. 
Years  passed.     Old  and  gray  he  returned  in 

176 


Enthusiasm  of  Friendship 

rags  and  poverty.  He  found  his  dear  ones  had 
all  died  in  penury.  He  also  found  that  the 
peasant  who  bought  his  farm  was  now  a  prince. 
One  day,  digging  in  the  white  sand  in  the 
stream  at  the  foot  of  the  garden,  the  peasant 
saw  a  shining  something  that  sent  his  heart  to 
his  mouth.  Running  his  hands  throuo;h  the 
sand,  he  found  it  sown  with  gems.  Thus  wei'e 
discovered  the  Golconda  mines.  Had  AH 
Hafed  dug  in  his  own  garden,  instead  of 
starvation,  poverty  and  a  broken  heart,  he 
would  have  owned  gems  that  made  nations  rich. 
This  legend  reminds  us  how  youth  con- 
stantly throws  away  its  opportunities.  Each 
day  some  man  exchanges  a  farm  in  Pennsyl- 
vania for  the  prairies  of  Dakota,  only  to  find 
that  the  hills  he  despised  have  developed  oil 
that  makes  his  successor  rich.  Each  year 
purposeful  men  grow  rich  out  of  trifles  that 
the  cai'eless  cast  away.  The  sewers  of  Paris 
have  made  one  man  wealthy  with  treasure  be- 
vond  that  of  gold  mines.  The  wastes  of  a  cotton 
mill  founded  the  fortune  of  one  of  the  greatest 
families  in  England.  Peter  Cooper  used  to  say 
that  he  built  the  Cooper  Institute  by  picking 
up  the  refuse  that  the  butcher  shops  threw 
aside.  A  boy  tugging  over  a  shoe-last  in  Hav- 
erhill, Mass.,  was  told  by  his  mother  to  give 
himself  to  making  better  and  stronger  lasts, 

177 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

Twenty  years  of  enthusiastic  study  ended,  and 
he  was  president  of  one  of  the  greatest  of  our 
railways.  In  1870,  a  youth  sat  upon  the  slag 
heap  of  a  mine  in  California.  But  he  gave  his 
full  mind  to  each  clod,  and  going  away  for  a 
few  weeks  he  returned  with  a  machine  that  ex- 
tracted greater  treasure  from  the  slag  than  men 
had  ever  gained  from  the  mines.  All  wise  men 
unite  in  telling  us  that  ours  is  a  world  where 
prosperity  is  won  by  fidelity  to  details,  and  that 
wealth  comes  through  little  improvements. 
But,  best  of  all,  a  purposeful  enthusiasm  gives 
mental  wealth,  and  achieves  a  treasure  beyond 
gold  and  rubies — a  worthy  character. 

Nor  is  there  any  dross  that  love  will  not  re- 
fine away,  nor  any  vice  that  love  can  not  expel 
from  the  heart.  Wordsworth  was  so  impressed 
with  the  evil  of  avarice  that  he  could  compare 
it  only  to  a  poisoned  vine  that  wrapped  itself 
so  tightly  about  his  favorite  tree  that  vine  and 
tree  became  one  life,  and  the  removal  of  the 
one  meant  the  death  of  the  other.  But  in  her 
most  famous  story  George  Eliot  tells  us  that 
avarice  passes  utterly  away  before  the  touch  of 
love.  Silas  Marner  was  the  victim  of  blackest 
ingratitude.  His  friend  was  a  thief,  who  thrust 
upon  him  the  blame  of  a  black  crime.  Sud- 
denly, this  innocent  man  found  all  homes  closed 
to  his  hand,  all  shops  locked  to  his  tools,  while 

178 


Enthusiasm  of  Friendship 

even  the  market  refused  his  wares.  Through 
two  years  and  more,  right  bravely  he  held  his 
head  aloft  and  looked  all  men  in  the  face.  At 
length  hunger  and  want  drove  him  forth  a 
wanderer.  Then  he  shook  off  the  dust  of  his 
feet  against  his  false  friends,  and  cursed  their 
firesides.  Kindness  in  him  soured  into  cyni- 
cism, his  sweetness  became  bitterness,  his  faith 
in  God  and  man  fluttered  feebly  for  awhile, 
then  lay  without  a  single  pulse-beat.  In  anger 
he  cursed  God,  but  could  not  die. 

Journeying  afar,  the  traveler  at  length 
stayed  his  steps  in  a  distant  village.  Then  in 
toil  he  sought  to  forget.  Rising  a  great  while 
before  day,  he  wrought  with  the  activity  of  a 
spinning  insect;  and  while  men  slept,  his  loom 
hummed  far  into  the  night.  "When  fifteen 
years  had  passed,  he  had  much  gold  and  was  a 
miser.  Under  the  brick  floor  he  secreted  his 
treasure.  Each  night  he  locked  the  door, 
shuttered  his  windows,  and  poured  upon  the 
table  his  gold  and  silver.  He  bathed  his  hands 
in  the  yellow  river.  He  piled  his  guineas  up 
in  heaps.  Sometimes  he  slept  with  arms 
around  his  precious  money-bags.  One  evening 
he  lifted  the  bricks  of  the  floor,  to  find  that  the 
hole  was  empty.  Benumbed  with  terror,  he 
went  everywhither  seeking  his  treasure.  He 
kneaded  his  bed,  swept  his  oven,  peered  into 

179 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

each  crack  and  crevice.     When  the  full  truth 
fell  ujDon  the  miser,  he  sent  forth  a  wild,  ring- 
ing   scream — the     soul's    cry    of    desolation. 
Then  in  his  grief  he  rushed  into  the  rain  and 
the    wild    night,    and    wandered    on    and    on, 
stupefied  with  pain.     Not  until  morning  came 
did  he  stagger  in  out  of  the  storm.     Entering, 
he    saw    the    glint    of    yellow    by   his   hearth. 
With    a    wild    cry    he    sprang    forward    and 
clutched  it.      But  it  was  not  gold ;  it  was  some- 
thing  better — it   was    the   yellow  locks  of  a 
sleeping  child.      Broken-hearted,  with  nothing 
else  to  live  for,  Silas  Marner  took  the  deserted 
babe  into  his  bosom.     As  the  weeks  went  on,  the 
little  creature  nestled  into  his  heart.     For  the 
child's    sake    he    turned    again    to    his  loom; 
love  taught  him  thrift  and  industry.      For  the 
child's  sake  he  bought  books  and  hived  knowl- 
edge; love  made  a  scholar  of   him.      For  the 
child's   sake  he    planted  vines,  roses    and    all 
sweet  flowers;  love  made  him  an  artist.      For 
the  child's  sake  he  bought  carpets  for  the  bare 
floors  and  pictures  for  the  wall ;  love  had  made 
him  generous.      For  the  child's  sake  he  knelt 
one  night  and  recited  her  prayer;  love  would 
fain    make    him    a    Christian.      But    he    hated 
men,  and  could  not  forget  their  ingratitude. 
One  day  a  rich  man's  carriage  stopped  before 
his  cottage.     The  lord  of  the  mansion  told  a 

1 80 


Enthusiasm  of  Friendship 

strange  story — how  this  beautiful  girl  of 
eighteen  was  his  daughter.  In  that  hour  the 
girl,  tall  and  beautiful,  turned  away  from 
palace,  lands,  position,  and,  for  the  love  she 
bore  him,  put  her  arms  around  Silas  Marner 
and  refused  to  leave  him.  Then  something  in 
him  gave  way,  and  Silas  Marner  wept.  Then 
confidence  in  man  and  God  was  his  again. 
Love  had  destroyed  avarice  and  purged  av/ay 
his  sin.  For  love  is  a  civilizer;  it  makes  saints 
out  of  savages.  As  an  armor  of  ice  melts  be- 
fore the  sun,  so  all  vice  and  iniquity  disappear 
in  the  presence  of  an  overmastering  affection. 
It  remains  for  us  to  consider  that  the  absence 
of  an  enthusiastic  devotion  to  integrity  and 
the  law  of  God  explains  the  moral  disasters 
and  shipwrecks  lluil  have  increased  the  tears 
and  sorrows  of  mankind.  Piccoiilly  the  people 
of  this  land  opened  their  morning  papers  only 
to  be  deeply  shocked  by  a  rehearsal  of  griev- 
ous disasters,  not  all  of  which  were  physical. 
It  seems  that  an  awful  cyclone  had  swept 
thi'ough  a  Western  communit)'^,  twisting  the 
orchards,  destroying  houses  and  barns,  and 
leaving  behind  a  swath  wide  and  black  with 
destruction.  In  addition,  the  foreijxn  news^ 
told  of  a  volcano  whose  crater  had  suddenly 
poured  forth  a  river  of  lurid  lava,  which, 
sweeping  doAvu  the  mountain  side,   consumed 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

the  homes  of  the  flying  multitude.  But  the 
saddest  disaster  was  reserved  to  the  last.  It 
told  of  the  shame  and  sorrow,  from  which 
there  is  no  recovery,  that  had  befallen  the 
parents  and  friends  of  three  young  men, 
hitherto  held  in  high  honor.  It  seems  that  for 
many  years  these  men  had  been  honored  by 
their  friends,  and  trusted  by  the  banks  in 
which  they  were  employed.  But  in  a  dark 
hour  they  determined  to  cease  to  be  gentle- 
men, preferring,  rather,  to  join  the  ranks  of 
thieves.  Despising  every  principle  of  honor, 
the  gold  which  employers  committed  to  their 
care  was  taken,  not  to  the  safety  vault,  but 
distributed  among  gamblers  and  evil  persons. 
And  our  heavy  sorrow  is  increased  when  we 
read  in  our  commercial  reports  that  last  year 
625  men  went  astray  as  embezzlers,  robbing 
the  people  in  forty-five  states  of  $25,234,112. 
The  time  seems  to  have  come  for  this  nation  to 
sit  down  in  sackcloth  and  ashes. 

To  all  good  men  comes  the  reflection  that 
either  this  immorality  must  cease  its  ravages, 
or  this  nation  will  be  irretrievably  disgraced. 
Were  it  possible  to  search  out  these  unhappy 
men,  some  of  them  wearing  the  convict's  garb, 
and  some  wandering  as  fugitives  in  foreign 
lands,  henceforth  to  be  men  ' '  without  a 
country,"  and  question  each  for  the  cause  of 

182 


Enthusiasm  of  Friendship 

his  deep  disgrace,  from  all  would  come  this 
shameful  confession:  "  I  loved  evil  and  hated 
the  law  of  God."  Not  one  could  confess  to 
passionate,  enthusiastic  devotion  to  the  divine 
laws.  But  evex'y  tree  not  rooted  goes  down 
before  the  storm,  and  every  ship  unanchored 
midst  the  rocks  will  go  to  pieces  when  the 
wind  rises.  Would  that  we  could  to-day  cause 
the  laws  of  God  to  stand  forth  as  sharply  de- 
fined as  mountain  peaks  before  the  eyes  of  all 
young  men;  would  that  we  could  also  kindle  in 
each  a  passionate  love  and  loyal  affection  for 
these  holy  laws.  If  the  youth  of  to-day  are  to 
be  the  leaders  of  to-morrow,  and  are  ever  to 
have  power  to  stir  their  fellows,  to  correct 
abuses,  revolutionize  society,  or  organize 
history,  they  must,  with  the  enthusiasm  of  love, 
ally  themselves  with  God  and  Ilis  law,  cloth- 
ing that  law  with  flesh  until  it  becomes 
visible,  clothing  it  with  voice  until  it  becomes 
eloquent,  thrilling  it  with  power  until  it  be- 
comes triumphant.      Only  love  fulfills  law  ! 

Most  of  all  does  man  need  the  enthusiasm 
of  love  toward  his  God  and  Saviour.  In  the 
olden  time  Plato  expressed  a  wish  to  have 
the  moral  law  become  a  living  personage,  that 
beholdinj;,  mankind  mioht  stand  amazed  and 
entranced  at  her  beauty.  The  philosopher  felt 
that  abstractions  were  too  cold  to  kindle  the 

i«3 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

soul's  enthusiasm.  As  planets  are  removed 
from  the  sun,  their  light  and  heat  lessen; 
their  flowers  fade;  their  fruits  lack  luster;  their 
summers  shorten.  Thus  Neptune  stands  in  the 
midst  of  perpetual  ice  and  winter,  without 
tree  or  bird  or  human  voice.  But  as  our  earth 
approaches  the  direct  rays  of  the  sun,  its 
beauty  inci'eases,  its  harvests  grow  heavy. 

As  if  to  fulfill  Plato's  desire,  Jesus  Christ 
drew  near  to  our  world,  not  to  chill  man's 
heart,  but  to  sti-engthen  his  affection,  refine 
his  reason,  enlarge  his  horizon.  How  ad- 
mirable Christ's  words,  how  illustrious  His 
work,  how  divine  His  character !  The 
philosopher  describes  man,  but  Jesus  Christ 
loves  man,  weeps  for  man,  dies  for  man. 
Dante  inspires,  but  Jesus  Christ  gives  life. 
Shakespeare  shines,  but  Jesus  Christ  uplifts. 
History  causes  the  heroes  of  yesterday  to  pass 
before  the  mind,  sm-rounded  by  applauding 
multitudes.  When  Napoleon  entered  Paris  the 
people  ran  together  with  one  accoi'd,  and  the 
tides  of  enthusiasm  I'ose  like  a  mountain 
freshet.  When  Garibaldi  entered  Florence, 
when  Kossuth  passed  up  Broadway  in  New 
Yoi'k,  when  Grant,  i-eturning  homeward,  en- 
tered our  own  city,  the  streets  were  filled 
solidly  with  multitudes  who  forgot  hunger  and 
exhaustion,  exalted  by  hero-worship. 

184 


Enthusiasm  of  Friendship 

But  the  divine  man  never  stood  forth  in  full 
proportion  until  Jesus  Christ  stepped  uj)on 
this  planet.  What  strength  !  What  gentle- 
ness !  Behold  His  exquisite  sympathy!  Be- 
hold the  instinct  of  confidence,  that  drew  little 
children  to  His  arms  !  How  did  men,  defiled 
within  and  without,  throng  round  Him,  while 
His  pi'esence  wi'ought  the  miracle  of  miracles 
in  cleansing  them!  Then  for  the  first  time  in 
history  did  disheveled  ones  so  feel  the  beauty 
of  goodness  that  an  irresistible  enthusiasm 
drew  them  about  Him  to  kiss  the  very  hem  of 
His  garment.  All  the  excellencies  of  life,  and 
more,  unite  in  Him;  the  oi'ator's  persuasive 
speech;  the  artist's  love  of  beauty;  the  scholar's 
passion  for  truth ;  the  patriot's  love  of  country. 
His  also  is  more  than  the  love  of  mother, 
lover,  friend,  for  his  is  the  love  of  Saviour. 
To-day  He  rises  over  each  soul  in  such  majesty 
of  excellence  as  to  include  the  excellencies  of 
everything  in  heaven  and  everything  on  earth. 
As  the  clouds  sometimes,  after  hanging  for 
days  and  nights  in  the  atmosphere,  at  length 
come  together  and  pour  down  their  refreshing 
showers,  so  let  all  that  is  deepest  and  richest 
and  sweetest  in  man's  thought  ai^d  affection 
pour  itself  out  before  Him  who  is  worthy  of 
the  world's  anthem.  For  His  mind  will  guide, 
His  mei'cy  foi'give.  His  love  redeem,  His  hand 

185 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

lead — not  into  the  abyss  of  death,  but  unto 
the  heavenly  heights.  He  who  with  Dante 
looks  upward  to-day  may  behold  the  Saviour's 
divine  chariot  ' '  sweeping  along  the  confines 
of  heaven,  a  sweet  light  above  it,  its  wheels 
almost  blocked  with  flowers." 


Conscience  and  Character 


"  There  is  a  higher  law  than  the  constitution." 

^Seward. 

.  "  Whatever  creed  be  taught,  or  land  be  trod, 
Man's  conscience  is  the  oracle  of  God." 

— Byron. 

"  Labor  to  keep  alive  in  your  breast  that  little 
spark  of  celestial  fire  called  conscience." 

— Washington. 

"Trust  that  man  in  nothing  who  has  not  a  con- 
science in  everything." — Sterne. 

"If  you  can  find  a  place  between  the  throne  of  God 
and  the  dust  to  which  man"s  body  crumbles,  where 
the  fatal  responsibilities  of  law  do  not  weigh  upon 
him,  I  will  find  a  vacuum  in  nature.  They  press 
upon  him  from  God  out  of  eternity  and  from  the 
earth  out  of  nature,  and  from  every  department  of 
life,  as  constant  and  all-surrounding  as  the  pressure 
of  the  air." — Beecher. 


IX 

Conscience  and  Character 

WON  HUMBOLDT  said  that  every  man,  how- 
ever good,  has  a  yet  better  man  within  him. 
When  the  outer  man  is  unfaithful  to  his  deeper 
convictions,  the  hidden  man  whispers  a  pro- 
test. The  name  of  this  whisper  in  the  soul 
is  conscience.  And  never  had  monarch 
aspect  so  magisterial  as  when  conscience  ter- 
rified King  Herod  into  confession.  The  cruel, 
crafty  despot  had  slain  John  the  Baptist  to 
gratify  the  revenge  of  the  beautiful  Jezebel, 
his  wife,  reproved  of  John  for  her  outrageous 
sins.  But  soon  passed  from  memory  that 
hateful  nio-ht  when  the  blood  of  a  ffood  man 
mingled  with  the  red  wine  of  the  feast. 
Luxury  by  day  and  revelry  by  night  caused 
the  hateful  incident  to  be  fororotten.  Soon  a 
full  year  had  passed  over  the  palace  with  its 
silken  seclusion.  One  day,  when  the  dead 
prophet  had  long  been  forgotten,  a  courtier  at 
the  king's  table  told  the  story  of  a  sti'ange 
carpenter,  whose  name  and  fame  were  ringing 
through  the  land. 

189 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

Who  is  He?  asked  the  feasters,  pausing  over 
their  spiced  wine.  Vfho  is  He?  asked  the 
women,  gossiping  over  the  new  sensation. 
Suddenly,  conscience  touched  an  old  memory 
in  Herod's  heart.  In  terror  the  despot  rose 
from  the  banquet.  As  in  the  legend,  when 
the  murderer's  finger  touched  the  gaping 
wound  the  blood  began  again  to  flow — a  silent 
witness  against  the  unsuspected  but  guilty 
friend,  so  Herod's  conscience  opened  up  again 
his  guilty  secret.  Memory,  thrusting  a  hooked 
pole  into  "  the  ocean  of  oblivion,  brought  up  the 
pale  and  drowned  deed."  The  long-forgotten 
sin  was  revealed  in  all  its  ghastly  atrocity.  It 
availed  nothing  that  Herod  was  a  Sadducee — 
the  agnostic  of  antiquity.  Foi',  when  con- 
science spake,  all  his  doubts  fell  awaj^  Im- 
mortality and  I'esponsibility  were  clear  as 
noonday.  Holding  a  thousand  swords  in  her 
hand,  conscience  attacked  the  guilty  king. 
Then  were  fulfilled  Plato's  words:  "If  we 
could  examine  the  heart  of  a  king,  we  would 
find  it  full  of  scars  and  black  wounds."  For 
no  slave  was  ever  marked  by  his  master's 
scourge  as  Herod's  heart  was  lashed  by  his 
conscience. 

Socrates  told  his  disciples  that  the  facts  of  con- 
science must  be  reckoned  with  as  certainly  as 
the  facts  of  fire  or  wood  or  water.  None  may 
deny  the  condemnation  that  weighed  upon  the 

190 


Conscience  and  Character 

soul  of  Herod  or  Judas,  or  the  approval  of  con- 
science that  transfigured  the  face  of  the 
martyred  Stephen  or  Savonarola.  For  all 
happiness  comes  only  through  peace  with 
one's  self,  one's  record,  and  one's  God.  All 
the  great,  from  -.Eschylus  and  Sophocles  to 
Channing  and  Webster,  have  emphasized  man's 
conscience  as  the  oracle  divine.  Let  the  wit- 
nesses speak.  Here  is  the  Judge,  famous  in 
English  history:  It  became  his  duty  to  sen- 
tence a  servant  for  murdering  his  master. 
Suddenly,  before  the  astounded  onlookers,  the 
Judge  arose  and  took  his  place  in  the  dock 
beside  the  prisoner.  He  stated  that,  thirty 
years  before,  in  a  distant  province,  he  had 
taken  the  life  and  property  of  his  master,  and 
thereby  gained  his  ])resent  position  and  in- 
fluence. Though  he  had  never  been  suspected 
of  crime,  he  now  begged  his  fellow  Judges 
to  condemn  him  to  the  death  vuito  which  his 
conscience  had  long  urged  him.  Here  is  the 
student  of  man  and  things.  Dr.  Samuel  John- 
son: In  his  old  and  honored  age  he  goes  back 
to  Litchfield  to  stand  with  uncovered  head 
from  morning  till  night  in  the  market-place  on 
the  spot  where  fifteen  years  before  he  had  I'e- 
fused  to  keep  his  father's  book-stall.  Despite 
the  grotesque  figure  he  made,  midst  the  sneers 
and  the  rain,  conscience  bade  him  expiate  his 

191 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

breach  of  filial  piety.  And  here  is  Charming, 
the  scholar  and  seer:  A  child  of  six  years,  he 
lifted  his  stick  to  strike  the  tortoise,  as  he  had 
seen  older  boys  do.  But  in  that  moment  an 
inner  voice  whispered  loud  and  clear:  "It 
is  wrong."  In  his  fright  the  boy  hastened 
home  to  fhuji  himself  into  his  mother's  arms. 
"What  was  the  voice?"  he  asked.  To  which  his 
mother  answei'ed:  "Men  call  the  voice  con- 
science; but  I  pi'efer  to  call  it  the  voice  of 
God.  And  always  your  happiness  will  depend 
upon  obedience  to  that  little  voice." 

Here  also  is  the  great  Persian  Sadi.  One 
day  he  found  a  good  man  in  the  jungle,  who 
had  been  attacked  by  a  tiger  and  horribly 
mutilated.  Despite  his  dreadful  agony,  the 
dying  man's  featui'es  wei^e  calm  and  serene. 
"Great  God,"  said  he,  "I  thank  thee  that  I 
am  only  suffering  from  the  fangs  of  the  tiger 
and  not  of  remorse."  And  here  is  Professor 
Webster,  endungeoned  for  the  murder  of  Dr. 
Parkman.  One  morning  he  sent  for  his  jailer 
and  asked  to  be  placed  in  another  cell.  "At 
midnight,"  he  said,  "the  prisoners  in  the 
next  cell  tap  on  the  wall  and  whisper,  '  Thou 
art  a  murderer. '  "  Now  there  were  no  prison- 
ers in  the  next  cell.  The  whispers  were  the 
echoes  of  a  guilty  conscience. 

Daniel  Webster  also  testifies:  Once  he  was 
asked  what    was    the  greatest   thought  that 

192 


Conscience  and  Character 

had  ever  occupied  his  mind.  "Who  arc 
here?"  "Only  your  friends."  Then  this  co- 
lossal man  answered:  "There  is  no  evil 
we  can  not  face  or  flee  from  but  the  consequences 
of  duty  disregarded.  A  sense  of  obligation 
pursues  us  ever.  It  is  omnipresent  like  the 
Deity.  If  we  take  to  ourselves  wings  of  the 
morning  and  dwell  in  llie  uttermost  parts  of 
the  sea,  duty  performed  or  duty  violated  is 
still  with  us,  for  our  happiness  or  our  misery. 
If  we  say  that  darkness  shall  cover  us,  in  the 
darkness  as  in  the  light,  our  obligations  are 
yet  with  us.  We  can  not  escape  their  power 
nor  fly  from  their  presence.  They  are  with  us 
in  this  life,  will  be  with  us  at  its  close,  and  in 
that  scene  of  inconceivable  solemnity  which 
lies  yet  farther  on  we  shall  find  ourselves  fol- 
lowed by  the  consciousness  of  duty — to  pain 
us  forever  if  it  has  been  violated,  and  to  con- 
sole us  so  far  as  God  has  given  us  grace  to 
perform  it."  Weighed  against  conscience  the 
world  itself  is  but  a  bubble.  For  God  himself 
is  in  conscience  lending  it  authority. 

We  also  owe  the  great  dramatists  and  nov- 
elists a  debt,  in  that  they  have  portrayed 
and  analyzed  the  essential  facts  of  man's  moral 
life.  That  wiiich  Shakespeare  does  for  us  in 
"Macbeth,"  Victor  Hugo  does  in    his    "Les 

193 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

Mis^rables. "  The  latter  work,  always  ranked  as 
one  of  the  seven  great  novels,  exhibits  happiness 
and  character  as  fruits  of  obedience  to  the 
soul's  inner  circle.  Jean  Valjean  was  an  es- 
caped convict.  Going  into  a  distant  province 
he  assumed  a  new  name  and  began  life  again. 
He  invented  a  machine,  amassed  wealth,  be- 
came mayor  of  the  town,  was  honored  and  be- 
loved by  all.  One  evening  the  good  mayor 
heard  of  an  old  man  in  another  town  who  had 
been  arrested  for  stealing  fruit.  The  officer 
apprehending  him  perceived  in  the  old  man  a 
striking  resemblance  to  Jean  Valjean.  Despite 
his  protests  he  was  tried  as  Jean  Valjean,  and 
was  about  to  be  remanded  to  prison — this  time 
for  life.  Unless  some  one  cleared  him  he  must 
go  to  the  galleys.  Only  Jean  Valjean  himself 
can  clear  the  stranger.  How  clear  him?  By 
confessing  his  identity  and  going  himself. 

In  that  hour  the  mayor's  brain  reeled.  He  re- 
tired to  his  inner  room.  Then  the  temjiest  raged 
in  his  brain  as  a  cyclone  rages  through  the  trees, 
twisting  off  the  branches  and  pulling  up  the 
roots.  Must  he  go  back  again  to  the  galleys 
with  their  profanity  and  obscenity?  Must  he 
resign  his  mayoralty  and  his  wealth?  Must  he 
give  up  his  life,  so  useful  and  helpful,  and  all 
to  save  a  possible  year  or  two  of  life  for  this 
old  man?     Were  not  these  two  young  wards 

194 


Conscience  and  Character 

whom  he  was  supporting  more  than  this  one 
old  wreck?  Fate  had  decided.  Let  the  old 
man  go  to  the  galleys. 

Then  with  muscles  tense  as  steel,  with  jug- 
ular vein  all  swollen  and  purple,  Jean  Valjcan 
took  the  two  candlesticks  given  him  by  the 
Bishop,  his  thorn  cane,  the  coin  taken  from 
the  boy,  and  cast  all  upon  the  blazing  coals. 
Soon  the  flames  had  licked  all  up.  Then  Vic- 
tor Hugo  says:  "Jean  Valjcan  heard  a  burst 
of  internal  laughter."  What  was  it  in  him 
jeering  and  mocking?  At  midnight  from  sheer 
exhaustion  the  mayor  slept.  Dreaming,  he 
seemed  to  be  in  a  hall  of  justice  where  an  old 
man  was  being  tried.  Thore  were  roses  in  the 
vase,  only  sin  had  bleached  the  crimson  petals 
gray.  The  sunlight  came  through  the  window, 
only  sin  had  washed  the  color  from  the  sun- 
beam and  left  the  golden  rays  ashen  pale.  All 
the  people  were  silent.  At  length  an  officer 
touched  the  mayor  and  said:  "Do  you  know 
you  have  been  dead  a  long  while?  Your  body 
lives,  but  you  died  when  you  slew  your  con- 
science."  Suddenly  a  voice  said:  "Jean  Val- 
jean,  you  may  melt  the  candlestick,  burn  your 
clothes,  change  your  face,  but  God  sees  you." 
Afterwai'd  came  a  second  burst  of  internal 
laughter.  Then  the  mayor  arose  swiftly,  took 
his  horse,  drove  hard  all  night  and  reached  the 

195 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

distant  village  to  enter  the  courtroom  just  as 
the  old  man  was  about  to  be  sent  to  the  gal- 
leys. Ascending  the  prisoner's  dock,  he  con- 
fessed his  identity.  Victor  Hugo  tells  us  that 
in  that  hour  the  judge  and  the  lawyer  saw  a 
strange  light  upon  the  mayor's  face,  and  felt  a 
light  within  dazzling  their  hearts.  It  was 
the  same  light  that  fell  on  the  German  monk's 
face  when  before  the  Emperor  at  Worms  he 
said:  "  I  cannot  and  will  not  recant!"  and  then 
boldly  fronted  death.  Conscience  shining 
thi'ough  made  Luther's  face  luminous,  as  it 
had  made  the  face  of  Moses  before  him! 

As  obedience  to  the  behests  of  conscience 
has  always  yielded  happiness  and  formed  char- 
acter, so  disobedience  has  always  destroyed 
manhood.  The  o-reat  novelists  have  exhibited 
the  deterioration  of  character  in  their  hero  as 
beginning  with  a  sin  against  the  sense  of  duty. 
In  Romola,  George  Eliot  exhibits  Tito  as  a 
gifted  and  ideal  youth.  The  orphan  child  was 
adopted  by  the  Greek  scholar,  who  lavished 
upon  him  all  the  gifts  of  affection,  all  the 
cultui'e  and  embellishments  of  the  schools,  all 
the  comforts  of  a  beautiful  home;  and  when 
the  longing  for  foreign  travel  came  upon  the 
youth  the  foster-father  could  not  deny  him, 
but  took  passage  for  Tito  and  himself  and 
sailed  for  Alexandria.     But  the  motto  of  Tito's 

196 


Conscience  and  Character 

life  was,  get  all  the  pleasure  you  can,  avoid  all 
the  pain.  Soon  the  old  scholar  became  a  clog 
and  a  burden.  One  night,  conscience  battled 
for  its  life  with  Tito.  At  midnight  the  youth 
arose,  unbuckled  from  his  father's  waist  the 
leather  belt  stuffed  with  jewels,  and  fled  into 
the  night,  leaving  the  gray-haired  man  among 
strangers  whose  language  he  could  not  speak. 
Then  this  youth  sailed  away  to  Florence. 
There  his  handsome  person,  his  Southern  beauty, 
his  grace  of  address,  his  aptitude  for  affairs, 
won  him  the  admiration  of  the  wisest  states- 
men and  the  heart  of  one  of  the  noblest  of 
women.  But  all  the  time  we  feel  toward  this 
beautiful  youth  that  same  loathing  and  con- 
tempt that  we  feel  toward  a  beautiful  young 
tiger.  Tito  had  no  conscience  toward  Romola, 
no  conscience  toward  her  father's  priceless 
library,  no  conscience  towai'd  the  patriots 
struggling  for  the  city's  liberty;  he  played 
the  traitor  toward  all.  His  soul  was,  indeed, 
sheathed  in  a  glowing  and  beautiful  body;  but 
it  was  the  corpse  sheathed  over  with  flowers 
and  vines;  and  so  conscience  becomes  an 
avenger  upon  Tito.  When  the  keystone  goes 
from  the  arch,  all  must  crash  down  in  ruins. 
Unconsciously  but  surely  the  youth  moved 
toward  his  destruction.  The  day  of  doom  was 
delayed,  but   there  came  an  hour  when  con- 

197 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

science  first  drove  Tito  into  the  Arno's  swift 
current,  and  then  became  a  millstone,  that 
sunk  him  into  the  deep  abyss.  For  ours  is  a 
world  in  which  nature  and  God  cannot  afford 
to  permit  sin  to  prosper.  Conscience  is  God's 
avenger. 

Open  all  the  master  books,  and  they  por- 
tray the  same  truth.  Three  of  the  seven 
greatest  novels  deal  with  conscience.  Seven 
of  the  world's  greatest  dramas  are  studies  of 
conscience  and  of  duty.  The  masterpieces  of 
Sophocles  and  ^Eschylus,  of  Dante  and  Milton, 
of  Goethe  and  Byron,  are  all  studies  of  the 
soul's  oracle,  that,  disobeyed,  hurls  man  into 
the  abyss,  or,  followed,  becomes  wings,  lifting 
him  into  the  open  sky. 

Demosthenes  said  that  knowledge  begins  with 
definition.  What,  then,  is  conscience?  Many 
misconceptions  have  prevailed.  Multitudes 
suppose  it  to  be  a  distinct  faculty.  The  eye 
tests  colors  for  beauty,  the  ear  tests  sounds  for 
harmony,  the  reason  tests  arguments  for  truth, 
and  there  is  a  joopular  notion  that  conscience 
is  a  distinct  faculty,  testing  deeds  for  morality. 
Many  suppose  that,  when  God  made  man.  He 
implanted  conscience  as  an  automatic  moral 
mechanism,  a  kind  of  inner  mind,  to  act  in  hia 
absence ;  but  conscience  is  not  a  single  faculty. 
It  includes  many  faculties,  and  is  complex  in 

198 


Conscience  and  Character 

nature.  It  has  an  intellectual  element,  and 
this  is  distinctly  fallible  and  capable  of  educa- 
tion. Witness  the  Indians,  believing  it  to  be 
right  to  kill  aged  persons.  Witness  savages 
of  old,  sacrificing  their  children  to  appease  the 
gods.  Just  as  there  has  been  an  evolution  in 
tools,  in  laws  and  in  institutions,  so  has  there 
been  an  evolution  of  the  intellectual  element 
in  conscience.  Thucydidcs  tells  us  that  the 
time  was  in  Sparta  when  stealing  was  right. 
In  that  far-off  time  a  boy  was  praised  for  ex- 
hil)iting  skill  and  dexterity  in  pilfering.  Steal- 
ing was  disgraceful  and  wrong  only  when  it 
was  found  out,  and,  if  the  theft  was  large  and 
skillfully  done,  it  won  honor — a  condition  of 
things  that  still  prevails  in  some  sections. 

Never  since  man  step])ed  foot  upon  this 
planet  has  there  been  a  time  when  conscience, 
the  judge,  has  praised  a  David  when  sinning 
against  what  he  believed  to  be  the  law  of  right; 
never  once  has  it  condemned  a  Daniel  in  doing 
what  he  believed  to  be  right.  In  this  sense 
conscience  is,  indeed,  infallible  and  is  the  very 
voice  and  regent  of  God. 

Since,  therefore,  conscience  partakes  of  this 
divine  nature  and  speaks  as  an  oracle,  what 
are  its  uses  and  functions?  Primarily,  the 
moral  sense  furnishes  a  standard  and  tests  ac- 
tions   for   righteousness    or   iniquity.     To  its 

199 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

judgment-seat  comes  reason,  with  its  pur- 
poses and  ambitions.  When  his  color  sense  is 
jaded  the  artist  uses  the  sapphire  or  ruby  to 
bring  his  tints  up  to  perfection.  And  wlien 
contact  with  selfishness  or  sordidness  has  soiled 
the  soul's  garments,  dulled  its  insti'uments, 
and  lowered  its  standai'ds,  then  conscience 
comes  in  to  freshen  the  ideals  and  to  smite 
vice  and  vulgarity.  In  these  luminous  hours 
when  conscience  causes  the  deeper  convic- 
tions to  prevail,  how  beautiful  seem  truth  and 
purity  and  justice!  How  does  the  soul  revolt 
from  iniquity,  even  as  the  eye  revolts  from  the 
slough  or  the  nostril  from  filth! 

Conscience  has  also  relations  to  judgment. 
It  pronounces  upon  the  inner  motive  that  colors 
the  deeds,  for  it  is  the  motive  within  that  makes 
the  actions  without  right  or  wrong.  When  Cole- 
ridge, the  schoolboy,  was  going  along  the  street 
thinking  of  the  story  of  Hero  and  Leander  and 
imagining  himself  to  be  swimming  the  Helle- 
spont, he  threw  v/ide  his  arms  as  though  breast- 
ing the  waves.  Unfortunately,  his  hand  struck 
the  pocket  of  a  j^asser-by  and  knocked  out  a 
purse.  The  outer  deed  was  that  of  a  pick- 
pocket and  could  have  sent  the  youth  to  jail. 
The  inner  motive  was  that  of  an  imasrinative 
youth  deeply  impressed  by  the  story  he  was 
translating  from  the  Greek,  and  that  inner 
motive  made  the  owner  of  the  purse  his  friend 

200 


Conscience  and  Character 

and  sent  young  Coleridge  to  college.  Thus, 
the  philosopher  tells  us,  the  motive  made  what 
was  outwardly  wrong  to  be  inwardly  right. 

Memory,  too,  is  influenced  by  the  moral 
faculty.  Memory  gathers  up  all  our  yester- 
days. Often  her  writing  is  invisible,  like 
that  of  a  j)enman  writing  with  lemon  juice, 
taking  note  of  each  transgression  and  re- 
cording words  that  will  appear  when  held  up 
to  the  heat  of  fire.  Very  strangely  does  con- 
science bring  out  the  processes  of  memoi'y. 
Sir  William  Hamilton  tells  of  a  little  child 
brought  to  England  at  four  years  of  age. 
When  a  few  brief  summers  and  winters  had 
passed  over  his  head,  the  language  of  far-off 
Russia  had  passed  completely  out  of  the  child's 
mind.  Seventy  years  afterward,  stricken  with 
his  last  illness,  in  his  delirium  the  man  spoke 
with  perfect  ease  in  the  language  of  child- 
hood. In  moments  of  extreme  excitement, 
when  ships  go  down  or  death  is  imminent, 
conscience  doth  so  quicken  the  mind  that  all 
the  deeds  and  thoughts  of  an  entire  career 
are  reviewed  within  a  few  minutes.  Schol- 
ars have  been  deeply  impressed  with  this 
unique  fact.  Seeking  to  interpret  it,  Walter 
Scott  takes  us  into  the  castle  where  a  foul  mur- 
der was  committed.  So  deeply  did  the  red  cur- 
rent stain  the  floor  that,  though  the  servants 
scrubbed  and  scrubbed  and  planed  and  planed, 

201 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

still  the  dull  red  stains  oozed  up  through  the 
oaken  planks.  This  is  the  great  Scotchman's 
way  of  saying  that  our  deeds  stain  through  the 
very  fiber  and  substance  of  the  soul. 

Looking  backward,  we  see  only  hei*e  and  there 
a  peak  of  remembrance  standing  out  midst  the 
sea  of  forgetfulness,  even  as  the  islands  in  the 
West  Indies  stand  outmidst  the  ocean.  But  each 
of  these  island  peaks  represents  a  submerged 
continent.  Drain  off  the  sea,  and  the  mountains 
ease  off  toward  the  foothills  and  the  hills  to- 
wai'd  the  great  plains  that  make  up  the  hidden 
land.  Thus  the  isolated  memories  of  the  past 
are  all  united,  and  will  at  length  stand  forth  in 
perfect  revelation.  Verily,  conscience  is  a  wit- 
ness, secretly  taking  notes,  even  as  good  Lati- 
mer in  his  cell  ovei'heai'd  the  scratching  of  the 
pen  in  the  chimney  behind  the  curtain.  Con- 
science is  a  judge,  and,  though  juries  nod  and 
witnesses  may  be  bribed,  conscience  never 
slumbers  and  never  sleeps.  Conscience  is  a 
monarch,  and,  though  to-day  the  soul's  king  be 
deposed  from  its  throne,  to-morrow  it  will  as- 
cend to  the  judgment-seat  and  lift  the 
scepter.  For  conscience  represents  God  and 
acts  in  His  stead. 

Consider  the  workings  of  conscience  in  daily 
life.  The  ideal  man  is  he  who  is  equally  con- 
scientious toward  intellect  and  affection,   to- 

202 


Conscience  and  Charav^ter 

ward  plan  and  purpose.  But  in  practical  life 
men  are  Christian  only  in  spots  and  depart- 
ments. The  soul  may  be  likened  unto  a 
house,  and  conscience  is  the  furnace  thereof. 
Sometimes  the  householder  turns  the  heat  into 
the  sitting-room  and  parlor,  but  in  the  other 
rooms  he  turns  off  the  warm  currents  of  air. 
Sometimes  heat  is  turned  into  the  upper  rooms, 
while  the  lower  rooms  are  cold.  Thus  con- 
science, that  should  govern  all  faculties  alike, 
is  largely  departmental  in  its  workings.  Some 
men  are  conscientious  toward  Sunday,  but  not 
toward  the  week  days.  On  Sunday  they  sing 
like  saints,  on  Monday  they  act  like  demons. 
On  the  morning  of  St.  Bartholomew's  massacre, 
Charles  I X  was  conscientious  towai'd  the 
cathedral  and  attended  mass  during  three 
hours;  in  the  evening  he  filled  the  streets  of 
Paris  with  rivers  of  blood,  John  Calvin  was 
conscientious  toward  his  logical  system.  He 
was  very  faithful  to  his  theology,  but  he  had 
no  conscience  toward  his  fellows,  and  burned 
Servetus  without  a  sympathetic  throb. 

In  the  Middle  Arjes  conscience  worked  toward 
outer  forms.  In  those  days  the  baron  and 
priest  made  a  contract.  The  general  led  his 
peasants  forth  to  burn  and  pillage  and  kill, 
and  the  priest  absolved  the  murderers  for  five 
per  cent   of  the  profits.      Men   were  very  con- 

203 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

scientious  toward  absolution,  but  not  at  all  to- 
wai'd  the  neighbor's  flocks  and  barns.  In  others 
conscience  is  largely  superstition.  Recently 
an  officer  of  our  army  found  himself  sitting  be- 
side his  host  at  a  table  containing  thirteen 
guests.  The  soldier,  who  pei'haps  would  have 
braved  death  on  the  battle-field,  was  pricked 
by  his  conscience  for  sitting  at  table  where  the 
guests  numbered  thirteen.  But  he  was  afraid 
to  die  at  the  dinner-table.  He  believed  that 
the  great  God  who  makes  suns  and  stars  and 
blazing  j^lanets  to  fly  from  His  hand  as  sparks 
beneath  the  hammer  of  a  smith,  the  god  of  Sirius 
and  Orion,  always  stopped  his  work  at  six 
o'clock  to  count  the  guests  around  each  table, 
and  if  he  found  perchance  there  were  thirteen, 
then  w^ould  lift  his  arrow  to  the  bow  to  let 
fly  the  deadly  shaft  upon  these  awful  sinners 
against  the  law  of  twelve  chairs  or  fourteen. 

Singularly  enough,  now  and  then  an  individual 
is  conscientious  toward  some  charm,  as  in  the 
case  of  a  merchant  who  resently  discovered 
that  he  had  left  his  buckeye  at  home.  He  had 
carried  this  for  twenty  years.  Had  he  forgot- 
ten to  pray  he  would  not  have  gone  home  to 
fall  upon  his  knees.  Nature  and  God  were  in 
the  merchant's  counting-room,  but  not  the 
buckeye.  So  he  hurriedly  left  his  office  to  bring 
back  the  agent  that  secured  all  his  success  and 
prosperity. 

204 


Conscience  and  Character 

Then,  there  is  a  commercial  conscience. 
Some  men  feel  that  the  Uiw  of  right  is 
chiefly  binding  upon  a  man  in  his  business 
relations.  They  exile  themselves  from  home, 
break  the  laws  of  love  and  companionship  with 
the  wife  whom  they  have  engaged  to  cherish 
and  love,  until  they  become  strangers  to  her. 
But  conscience  does  not  prick  them.  Home, 
friends,  music,  culture,  all  these  may  be  neg- 
lected— but  the  business,  never.  Others  there 
are  whose  consciences  work  largely  toward  the 
home.  When  they  cross  their  own  thresholds 
they  are  genial,  kirid  and  delightful.  As 
hosts  they  are  famed  for  their  companionship. 
Dying,  their  fame  is  gathered  up  by  the  ex- 
pressions, "good  husband,  good  father,  good 
provider."  But  they  have  no  conscience  to- 
ward the  street.  They  count  other  men  their 
prey,  being  grasping,  greedy  and  avaricious. 
They  feel  about  their  fellows  just  as  men  do 
about  the  timber  in  the  forest.  When  a  man 
wants  timber  for  his  house,  he  says,  "That  is 
the  tree  I  want,"  and  the  woodsman  fells  it  and 
squares  it  for  the  sill.  Does  he  want  stone  for 
his  foundations  or  marble  for  his  finishings? 
There  are  the  i*ocks;  quarry  them.  Men  go 
into  inanimate  nature  and  get  the  materials 
they  need.  Nor  is  it  very  dilTerent  in  the 
great  world   of  business  and  ambition.     The 

205 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

giant  takes  one  man  for  the  foundation  and 
cuts  him  down  and  builds  him  into  the  walls; 
he  selects  another  man  and  uses  him  up,  build- 
iniT  his  substance  into  the  structure;  he  looks 
upon  his  fellows  as  the  shepherd  upon  his 
flocks — so  much  wool  to  be  sheared. 

Nor  is  the  work  of  conscience  very  different 
in  the  moi'al  and  spiritual  realm.  Here  is  one 
man  who  is  conscientious  towai'd  yesterday. 
Ten  yeai's  ago,  he  says,  "while  kneeling  in  the 
field  light  broke  throuo;h  the  clouds  "  and  he 
obtained  "a  hope."  And  every  Sunday  since 
that  day  he  has  not  failed  to  recall  that  scene. 
He  is  not  conscientious  about  having  a  new, 
fresh,  crisp,  vital  experience  for  to-day,  but 
he  is  conscientiously  faithful  in  recalling  that 
old  experience.  It  is  all  as  foolish  as  if  he 
should  say  that  ten  years  ago  he  had  a  bath, 
or  ten  years  ago  he  drank  at  the  bubbling 
spring,  or  ten  years  ago  he  met  a  friend. 
What  about  to-day's  purity,  to-day's  loaf  and 
to-day's  friendships?  The  heart  should  count 
no  manna  good  that  is  not  gathei'ed  fresh  each 
morning.  Others  there  are  whose  conscience 
works  largely  toward  doctrine  and  intellectual 
statements.  With  them  Christianity  is  a 
function  of  thought  in  the  brain.  These  are 
they  who  want  evei'y  sermon  to  consist  of 
linked  ai'guments.     The  good  deacon  sits   in 

206 


Conscience  and  Character 

his  pew  and  listens  to  the  unfoldintr  of  proofs 
of  election  or  foreordination.  When  the  ar- 
guments have  been  piled  up  to  sixteen  or 
eighteen,  the  good  man  begins  to  chuckle  with 
delight,  saying,  "Verily,  this  is  a  high  day  in 
Israel;  my  soul  feasts  on  fat  things."  Other 
men  want  some  flesh  on  their  skeletons,  but  he 
is  fed  on  the  dry  bones  of  logic. 

Sometimes  conscience  affects  only  the  feelings. 
Fifty  years  ago  there  was  a  type  numbering 
hundreds  of  tliousands  of  persons  whose  relig- 
ion was  largely  emotional.  In  great  camp- 
meetings  filled  with  a  warm  atmosphere  men 
showed  at  their  best.  The  sunny  spot  of  all 
the  year  was  the  month  of  revival  meetings. 
Then  they  experienced  the  luxury  of  spiritual 
enjoyment.  They  lived  on  the  top  of  some 
Mount  of  Transfiguration,  while  the  world  be- 
low was  thundering  with  wickedness  and  tor- 
mented with  passion.  Men  became  drunk  with 
emotions.  Religion  was  an  exquisite  form  of 
spiritual  selfishness.  Afterward  came  an  era 
when  men  learned  to  transmute  feelings  into 
thoughts  and  fidelities  toward  friendships  and 
business  and  duty.  At  other  times  conscience 
has  had  unique  manifestations  in  fidelity  to- 
ward creeds.  Now  one  denomination  and  now 
another,  forgetting  to  be  conscientious  in  meet- 
ing together  for  days  and  weeks  to  plan  in  the 

207 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

interests  of  the  pauper,  the  orphans,  the  ten- 
ement house  or  the  foreign  district  in  the 
great  city,  will  through  months  of  excite- 
ment exhibit  conscience  toward  some  doctrinal 
symbol.  Witness  the  recent  upheaval  about 
inspiration.  As  water  bubbling  up  through  the 
spring  was  once  rain  that  fell  from  the  sky,  so 
the  truth  coming  through  the  lips  of  poet  or 
prophet  was  first  breathed  into  the  heart  by 
God.  Recently  a  good  professor  thought  more 
emphasis  should  be  laid  upon  the  human 
spring.  But  his  opponents  thought  the  em- 
phasis should  be  placed  upon  the  sky,  from 
which  the  rain  fell.  In  the  broil  about  the 
nature  of  the  water,  the  spring  itself  was  soiled, 
much  mud  stirred  up^  until  multitudes  wholly 
forgot  the  spring,  and  many  knew  not  whether 
there  was  any  water  of  life. 

But  conscience  in  some,  means  fidelity  to 
what  man  and  God  did — not  what  God  is 
doing  or  will  do.  When  the  flowing  sap 
under  the  stimulus  of  the  sun  causes  the 
tree  to  grow  and  splits  the  bark,  men  rejoice 
that  the  bark  is  rent  and  that  new  and  larger 
growths  must  be  inserted.  Sometimes  a  child, 
long  feeble  and  sickly,  enters  upon  a  period 
of  very  rapid  growth.  Soon  the  boy's  old 
clothes  are  too  small,  and  so  is  his  hat.  But 
what  if  the  parents  should  remember  only  that 

208 


Conscience  and  Character 

the  clothes  and  hat  came  from  some  famous 
pattern?  What  if  in  their  zeal  to  preserve 
the  hat  they  should  put  an  iron  band  about 
the  boy's  forehead  and  never  permit  it  to  in- 
crease so  that  the  hat  would  not  (it  ?  What  if 
they  should  put  a  strait-jacket  about  the 
chest  to  restrain  the  stature?  This  would 
show  great  zeal  toward  the  hat  and  the  coat, 
but  meanwhile  what  is  to  become  of  the  boy? 
Strange  that  men  should  be  so  conscientious 
toward  an  intellectual  symbol,  but  forget  to 
give  liberty  to  other  men's  consciences  who 
day  and  night  seek  to  please  God  and  be  true 
to  their  beliefs.  Thus  in  a  thousand  ways 
conscience  is  partial  and  fragmentary  in  its 
workings.  Only  one  full-orbed  man  has  ever 
trod  our  earth! 

God's  crowning  gift  to  man  is  the  gift  of 
conscience.  Reason  is  a  noble  and  kingly 
faculty,  turning  reveries  into  orations  and 
conversations  into  books.  Imagination  is  a 
stately  and  divine  gift,  turning  thoughts 
into  poems  and  blocks  of  stone  into  statues. 
Great  is  the  power  of  an  eloquent  tongue  in- 
structing men,  restraining,  inspiring,  stimulat- 
ing vast  multitudes.  Great  are  the  joys  of  mem- 
ory, that  gallery  stored  with  pictures  of  the  past. 
But  there  is  no  genius  of  mind  or  heart  com- 
parable to  a  vigorous  conscience,  magisterial, 

209 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

clear-eyed,  wide-looking.  He  who  gave  all-com- 
prehending reason,  all-judging  reason,  reserved 
his  best  gift  to  the  last — then  gave  the  gift  of 
conscience. 

Man  is  a  pilgrim  and  conscience  is  the 
guide,  leading  him  safely  through  forests 
and  thickets,  restraining  from  the  paths  of 
v/rong,  pointing  out  the  ways  of  right.  Man 
is  a  voyager  and  conscience  is  his  com- 
pass. The  sails  may  be  swept  away,  and  the 
engines  stopped,  but  the  voyager  yet  may  be 
saved  if  only  the  compass  is  kept.  In  time  of 
danger  man  may  be  careless  about  his  garments, 
but  not  about  his  hand  or  foot  or  eye.  It  is 
possible  to  sustain  the  loss  of  wealth,  friends 
and  outer  honors,  but  no  man  can  sustain  the 
loss  of  conscience.  It  is  the  soul's  eye.  Afar 
off  it  sees  the  face  of  God.  Instructed,  guided, 
loved,  and  redeemed  by  Jesus  Christ,  he  who 
while  living  is  at  peace  with  his  Master  and 
with  his  conscience  will,  when  dying,  find  him- 
self at  peace  with  his  God. 


Visions  That  Disturb  Content- 
ment 


"  Like  other  gently  nurtured  Boston  boys,  Wendell 
Phillips  began   the    study  of  law.     Doubtless    the 
sirens  sang  to  him,  as  to  the  noble  youth  of  every 
country   and   time.     Musing  over  Coke   and  Black- 
stone,  perhaps  he  saw  himself  succeeding  Ames  and 
Otis  and  Webster,  the  idol  of  society,  the  applauded 
orator,  the  brilliant  champion  of  the  elegant  ease, 
and  the  cultivated   conservatism  of  Massachusetts. 
•*    *    *     But  one  October  day  he  saw  an  American 
citizen  assailed  by  a  furious  mob  in  the  city  of  James 
Otis  for  saying  with  James  Otis  that  a  man's  right  to 
liberty  is  inherent    and   inalienable.     As  the   jail 
doors  closed  upon  Garrison  to  save  his  life,  Garrison 
and  his  cause  had  won  their  most  powerful  and  re- 
nowned ally.     With  the  setting  of  that  October  sun, 
vanished  forever  the  career  of  prosperous  ease,  the 
gratification  of  ordinary  ambition,  which  the  genius 
and   the  accomplishments  of  Wendell  Phillips  had 
seemed  to  foretell.     Yes,  the  long-awaited  client  had 
come  at  last.      Scarred,  scorned  and  forsaken,  that 
cowering  and  friendless  client  was  wronged  and  de- 
graded humanity.     The  great  soul  saw   and  under- 
stood."— Oration  on  Wendell  Phillips  by  Oeorgc  Wm. 
Curtis. 


Visions  That  Disturb  Content- 
ment 

CVERY  community  holds  a  few  happy  and 
■*— '  buoyant  souls,  that  are  so  sustained  by 
inner  hope  and  outer  prosperity  as  to  seem  the 
elect  children  of  good  fortune.  These  are 
they  who  are  born  only  to  the  best  things, 
for  whom,  as  life  goes  on,  the  years  do  but 
increase  happiness  and  success.  For  other 
men  happiness  is  occasional,  and  life  offers 
now  and  then  a  bright  interval,  even  as  an 
open  glade  is  found  here  and  there  in  the  dark 
forest.  Among  these  sunny  souls,  dwelling 
midst  constant  prosperity,  let  us  hasten  to  in- 
clude that  youth  to  whom  Christ  made  over- 
tures of  friendship.  His  was  a  frank  and  open 
nature',  his  a  fresh  and  unsullied  heart.  He 
had  also  a  certain  grace  and  indescribable 
charm  that  clothed  him  with  rare  attraction. 
Wealth,  too,  was  his,  and  all  the  advantages 
that  go  therewith.  Yet  ease  had  not  ener- 
vated him,  nor  position  made  him  proud.  He 
had  indeed  passed  through  the  fierce  fires  of 

213 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

temptation,   but  had  come  out  with  spotless 
garments. 

Beholding  him,  Christ  loved  him;  nor  could 
it  have  been  otherwise.  Some  men  we  force 
ourselves  to  like.  For  reasons  of  finance  or 
social  advantage,  men  ignore  their  faults, 
while  cherishing  a  secret  dislike.  But  others 
are  so  attractive,  they  compel  our  friendship 
by  a  certain  sweet  necessity.  The  eye  must 
needs  like  the  rich  red  rose,  and  the  ear  can 
not  but  enjoy  the  sweet  song.  And  this  youth 
stood  forth  clothed  with  such  rare  attraction 
that  it  is  said  Christ  cast  one  long  lingering 
look  of  affection  upon  him;  then  widening  the 
circle  of  friendship,  he  offered  the  young  ruler 
a  place  therein.  It  was  an  overture  such  as 
Socrates  made  to  the  boy  Plato;  it  was  a  prof- 
fer such  as  Michael  Angelo  made  to  the  poor 
young  artist  who  knocked  at  his  door.  Re- 
calling the  day  when  he  met  Goethe,  Schiller 
was  accustomed  to  say  his  creative  literary 
career  began  with  Goethe's  oroffer  of  friend- 
ship. 

Carlyle  tells  us  that  each  new  epoch  in  his 
life  began  with  the  acquaintance  of  some  great 
man.  For  it  is  not  given  to  books  nor  business, 
to  landscapes  nor  clouds  nor  forests,  to  have 
full  power  over  the  living  man.  Only  mind  tan 
quicken  mind,  only  heart  can  quicken  hes.i't. 

214 


Visions  that  Disturb  Contentment 

What  would  th^  youth  of  genius  not  give  for 
the  friendship  of  some  Bacon  or  Shakespeare? 
But  when  tliis  youth  won  Christ's  regard,  it  was 
as  if  all  the  children  of  genius  had  come  together 
in  Christ's  single  person,  to  proffer  intimacy 
and  companionship.  His  great  soul  overhung 
his  friends  as  the  harvests  overarch  the  fields, 
"filling  the  flowers  with  heat  by  day,  and 
cooling  them  with  dews  by  night."  His  friend- 
ship is  like  a  mother's,  a  lover's,  a  friend's, 
but  larger  than  either,  and  deeper  than  all. 
The  rising  of  a  star,  that  glows  and  sparkles 
with  ten  thousand  effects,  can  alone  be  com- 
pared to  this  Son  of  Man,  who  flamed  forth 
upon  his  friends  such  majesty  of  beauty,  such 
royalty  of  kindling  influences. 

For  centuries  scholars  have  spoken  of  this 
interview  between  Christ  and  the  young  ruler 
as  "the  great  refusal."  Dante,  wandering 
with  Vircril  throuo;h  the  Inferno,  thouoht  he 
saw  this  young  ruler  searching  for  his  lost 
opportunity.  For  this  ruler  was  the  Hamlet 
of  the  New  Testament.  Like  the  Prince  of 
Denmark,  he  stood  midway  between  his  con- 
science and  his  task,  and  indecision  slew  him. 
It  has  been  said  that  Hamlet  could  have  been 
happy  had  he  remained  in  ignorance  of  his 
duty,  or  had  he  boldly  obeyed  the  vision  which 
called  him  to  action.      It  was  because  he  knew 

215 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

more  than  he  had  the  com^age  to  do  that  a 
discord  arose,  which  destroyed  the  symmetry 
and  sanity  of  his  mind.  His  madness  grew 
out  of  the  breach  between  his  enlarged  and 
haunting  sense  of  right  and  his  faltering 
ability  to  face  and  fulfill  it.  Thus  also  the 
tragedy  of  this  young  ruler's  life  grew  out  of 
the  fact  that  the  new  aspiration  made  his  old 
contentment  impossible,  and  compelled  him 
either  to  go  on  with  boldness  to  better  things, 
or  to  go  back  to  emptiness  and  misery.  Be- 
holding him,  Christ  loved  him  for  what  he 
was,  and  pointed  out  what  he  might  become. 
He  knew  that  the  better  was  a  great  enemy  of 
the  best.  For  Christ  had  the  double  vision  of 
the  sculptor. 

Before  him  was  the  mass  of  mai'ble,  rude 
and  shapeless.  But  the  outer  shapelessness 
concealed  the  inner  symmetry.  Only  the  flying 
chips  could  let  loose  the  form  of  glowing  beauty 
hidden  within.  And  before  that  youth  he 
lifted  up  a  vision  of  still  better  things.  He 
set  the  youth  midway  between  the  man  he  was 
and  the  man  he  might  become.  He  had 
achieved  so  much  that  Christ  would  fain  lead 
him  on  to  perfection  itself.  When  the  hus- 
bandman beholds  his  vines  entering  into  leaf- 
age and  blossom,  he  nurtures  them  on  into 
fruitage.      Wheii    Arnold    finds    some    young 

2i6 


Visions  that  Disturb  Contentment 

Stanley  ready  to  graduate,  he  whispers:  "One 
thing  thou  lackest;  let  all  thy  life  become  one 
eager  pursuit  of  knowledge."  And  to  this 
youth  who  had  climbed  so  high  came  the  vision 
of  something  fairer  and  better  still. 

Going  on  before,  Christ  lured  him  forward, 
even  as  of  old  the  goddess  lured  the  Grecian  boy 
forward  by  rolling  rosy  apples  along  the  path. 
But  the  interview  ended  with  the  "great  re- 
fusal." And  the  youth  went  away,  not  angry  nor 
rebellious,  but  sad  and  deeply  grieved  at  himself. 
For  now  he  knew  hov.'  far  his  aspiration  outran 
performance.  Like  Hamlet,  indecision  palsied 
action.  Contentment  ])erished,  for  the  vision 
of  perfection  ever  haunted  him.  At  first 
Christ's  words  and  look  of  earnest  affection 
filled  his  heart  with  a  tumult  of  joy:  but  hav- 
ing fallen  back  into  the  old  sordid  self,  the 
very  memory  of  his  master's  face  became  a 
curse  and  torture.  And  so  the  vision  blighted 
that  should  have  blessed. 

Now,  the  lives  of  great  men  tell  us  that  God 
has  always  used  visions  for  disturbing  content- 
ment, destroying  ease,  and  securing  progress. 
Witness  the  life  of  that  young  patrician,  Wen- 
dell Phillips.  His  college  mates  love  to  de- 
scribe him  as  they  first  saw  him  in  the  halls  of 
Cambridge.  His  elegant  person,  his  accom- 
plished manners,  his  refined  scholarship,  made 

217 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

him  the  idol  of  the  Harvard  boys.  Even  in  his 
youthful  days  he  excelled  as  an  orator,  and 
was  the  easy  master  of  the  platfoi'm.  But  to 
him  came  the  sii'ens  singing  of  leisure,  of  opu- 
lence, and  ambition.  Full  oft  he  looked  forward 
to  the  day  when  he  would  be  the  champion  of 
"  elegant  i*epose  and  cultivated  conservatism" 
of  the  patrician  element  in  his  patrician  state. 
But  suddenly  the  Christ,  in  the  person  of  one 
of  his  little  ones,  crossed  the  young  scholar's 
path.  One  golden  October  afternoon,  while 
Wendell  Phillips  was  sitting  in  his  office,  he 
heard  the  noise  of  a  sti^ange  disturbance  in  the 
street.  Looking  out  he  saw  the  mob  maltreat- 
ing Garrison,  as,  with  blows  and  kicks,  they 
dragged  him  toward  the  jail.  All  that  night 
young  Phillips  lay  tossing  on  his  couch,  think- 
ing ever  of  this  man  who  had  been  mobbed  in 
the  city  where  Otis  had  said  "Liberty  of 
speech  is  inalienable." 

All  that  night  the  vision  of  the  slave,  scarred 
and  scorned  and  forsaken,  stood  before  his 
mind,  while  ever  he  heard  a  voice  whispering: 
"  Inasmuch  as  ye  have  done  it  unto  one  of  the 
least  of  these  my  brethi^en,  ye  have  done  it 
unto  me."  In  that  vision  hour  peinshed  for- 
ever all  his  dreams  of  opulence  and  ease.  He 
decided  to  turn  his  back  upon  all  preferment 
and  ambition,   all  comfort  and  leisure,  and  fol- 

2i8 


Visions  that  Disturb  Contentment 

low  his  vision  whithersoever  it  led.  Soon  the 
vision  led  him  to  the  platform  of  Faneuil  Hall, 
where  an  oflicial  was  justifying  the  murderers 
of  Lovejoy.  "Mr.  Chairman,"  he  said,  "when 
I  heard  the  gentleman  lay  down  principles 
which  placed  the  murderers  of  Alton  side  by 
side  with  Otis  and  Hancock,  with  Quincy  and 
Adams,  I  thought  those  pictured  lips  would 
have  broken  into  voice  to  rebuke  the  recreant 
American,  the  slanderer  of  the  dead."  And 
that  vision  lent  his  words  such  burning  elo- 
quence that  Wendell  Phillips'  speech  in  Faneuil 
Hall  ranks  with  Patrick  Henry's  at  Williams- 
burg and  Abraham  Lincoln's  at  Gettysburg — 
and  there  is  no  fourth.  His  vision  led  him 
unto  obloquy  also.  What  revilings  were  his  1 
What  bitter  hatred  !  What  insults  and  scoffs  I 
At  last  the  vision  led  hira  unto  fame.  The 
very  city  that  would  have  slain  him  builded 
his  monument,  and  men  who  once  would  not 
defile  their  lips  with  his  name  taught  their 
children  the  pathway  to  his  tomb.  It  was  that 
vision  splendid  that  saved  Phillips  from  sodden 
contentment.  Had  Christ  never  crossed  his 
path,  his  imagination  would  have  lost  its 
brightest  picture,  his  life  its  noblest  impulses, 
its  most  energetic  forces. 

And  not  only  have  visions  power  to  shape 
young  men's  lives.   To  the  mature  and  the  gx-eat 

219 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

also  come  dreams  of  ideal  excellence,  smiting 
selfishness,  rebuking  sin,  taking  the  sweetness 
out  of  sordid  success,  and  urging  men  on  to 
higher  achievements.  The  biographers  have 
never  been  able  to  fully  account  for  the  pa- 
thetic sadness  and  gloom  of  the  closing  days  of 
Daniel  Webster.  Horace  Greeley  once  said  that 
"Webster's  intellect  is  the  greatest  emanation 
from  the  Almighty  mind  now  embodied."  For 
picturesque  majesty  and  overpowering  men- 
tality he  is  doubtless  our  most  striking  figure. 
That  enormous  and  beautiful  head,  those  won- 
derful eyes,  that  stately  carriage,  that  Jove- 
like front,  led  men  to  call  him  "the  godlike 
Daniel."  When  he  appeared  upon  the  Sti-and 
in  London  a  great  crowd  followed  him,  and  a 
British  statesman  described  Webster  as  one 
describes  a  majestic  landscape  or  the  sublimity 
of  a  mountain.  But  dui'ing  the  last  years  of 
his  life  his  face  took  on  a  strangely  pathetic  sor- 
row. With  the  language  of  a  Dante  his  biog- 
rapher has  pictured  for  us  an  Inferno,  in  which 
we  see  one,  sublime  of  reason,  walking  in  the 
very  prime  and  strength  and  grandeur  of  full 
manhood,  yet  walking  in  a  round  of  night,  in 
a  realm  of  bitterness,  ever  gnawed  by  disap- 
pointment and  consumed  by  fierce  ambition. 
He  sank  into  his  grave,  says  the  historian, 
"under  a  heart-crushing  load  of  political  de- 
spair." 

220 


Visions  that  Disturb  Contentment 

But  disappointed  ambition  cannot  account 
for  Daniel  Webstei''s  sadness  and  woe. 
Strength  was  his  for  supporting  the  loss  of  a 
nomination.  He  knew  that  his  title,  "De- 
fender of  the  Constitution,"  was  fully  equal  to 
the  title  of  President.  He  was  too  great  a 
man  to  have  his  heart  broken  by  the  loss  of  po- 
litical honor.  What  was  his  woe  ?  Let  us  re- 
member the  young  ruler  who  was  sad  and 
grieved  after  he  met  Christ,  and  had  refused 
to  obey  the  heavenly  vision.  Let  us  remem- 
ber the  dream  that  came  to  Pilate,  and  how, 
afterward,  the  great  Roman  was  uneasy  and 
restless.  And  to  Daniel  Webster  there  came 
the  memory  of  his  speech  in  favor  of  a  law 
compelling  men  in  the  North  to  send  fugitive 
slaves  back  to  their  masters;  and  there  also 
came  the  words  of  Christ,  who  said:  "I  am 
come  to  give  deliverance  to  the  captive."  And 
looking  forward,  Webster  anticipated  the  judg- 
ment of  the  generations  upon  the  breach  be- 
tween his  duty  and  his  perfoi'mance.  That 
vision  of  higher  things  haunted  him.  Oft  he 
heaved  sighs  of  bitter  regret.  Daniel  Web- 
ster was  saddened  and  deeply  grieved  at  what 
he  himself  had  done.  For  the  hope  of  the 
Presidency  he  sacrificed  his  convictions  as  to 
the  slave.  The  heavenly  vision  bade  him  de- 
liver the  captives,  not  send   them   back   into 

221 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

slavery.  No  political  disappointment  crushed 
Daniel  Webster.  The  consciousness  of  duty 
performed  would  have  sustained  him  under  any 
sorrow.  It  was  the  consciousness  of  having 
sinned  against  the  heavenly  vision  that  broke 
his  heart,  and  brought  Webster's  gi'ay  hairs 
down  with  sorrow  to  the  grave  ! 

Plutai'ch  tells  us  that  the  finest  culture 
comes  from  the  study  of  men  in  their  best 
moods.  But  always  life's  best  moods  come 
through  these  heavenly  visions.  George  Eliot 
makes  the  destiny  of  each  hero  or  heroine  to 
turn  upon  the  use  of  those  critical  hours  when 
some  ideal  fronts  the  soul  for  acceptance  or  re- 
jection. To  Maggie  TuUiver  came  a  delicious 
moment  when  her  lover  offered  her  honorable 
mai'riage,  and  would  have  led  her  into  a  per- 
fumed garden  of  perfect  happiness.  But  just 
in  that  hour  when  joy  bubbled  like  a  little 
spring  in  her  heart,  there  came  the  memory  of 
the  crippled  boy,  to  whom  years  before  in  her 
childhood  she  had  plighted  her  troth.  And 
the  vision  of  her  duty  and  the  thought  of  his 
disappointment  led  her  to  refuse  pleasure's 
spiced  cup,  and  choose  self-renunciation  and  a 
life  for  others.  That  heavenly  vision  saved 
her  from  plunging  into  the  abyss  of  selfishness, 
even  as  the  lightning's  flash  in  the  dark  night 
reveals  the  precipice  to  the  startled  traveler. 

222 


Visions  that  Disturb  Contentment 

And  when  the  visions  divine  have  rebuked 
selfishness,  they  go  on  to  conquer  sin.  Haw- 
thorne uses  the  vision  for  redeeming  his  hero. 
To  Arthur  Dinmiesdale,  pursued  by  his  enemy, 
came  the  dream  of  freedom,  when,  journeying 
to  a  foreign  land  with  Hester  and  Pearl,  he 
might  regain  health  and  happiness  and  find 
peace  again  in  walking  in  the  dear  old  paths  of 
wisdom  and  study.  But  the  day  before  his 
ship  sailed  came  the  vision  splendid,  bidding 
him  mount  the  scaffold,  confess  his  wrong,  and 
free  his  conscience  of  its  guilt.  And  it  was 
obedience  thereto  that  redeemed  his  life  from 
hypocrisy. 

And,  having  saved  men  from  wrong,  the 
vision  goes  on  to  secure  their  service  for  the 
right.  Here  is  that  colored  woman,  Harriet 
Tubman,  whom  John  Brown  introduced  to 
Wendell  Phillips  as  the  best  and  bravest  per- 
son upon  our  continent.  If  Frederick  Doug- 
lass wrought  in  the  day,  Harriet  Tubman 
toiled  at  night;  for  when  the  man  had  praise 
and  honor,  the  black  woman  had  only  obscurity 
and  neglect.  When  this  bravest  of  her  race 
escaped  from  slavery  in  1850  and  reached  Can- 
ada she  exclaimed  exultingly,  "I  have  only 
(me  more  journey  to  make — the  journey  to 
heaven."  But  in  that  hour  when  the  tides  of 
joy  rose  highest  there  came  the  vision  calling 

223 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

hei'  back  to  danger  and  service.  She  was  not 
disobedient  thereto,  but  turned  her  face  again 
toward  the  cotton  fields.  Between  1850  and 
1860  she  made  nineteen  trips  into  the  South, 
and  rescued  over  three  hundred  slaves.  One 
day  while  lying  in  a  swamp  with  her  band  of 
fugitives,  a  black  man  brought  her  word  that 
a  reward  of  $40,000  had  been  offered  by  the 
slave  dealers  of  Virginia  for  her  apprehension. 
Hard  pressed  by  her  pursuers,  she  sent  her 
fugitives  on  by  a  secret  route  and  went  herself 
to  the  train.  But  when  she  saw  in  the  car  ad- 
vertisements for  her  arrest  she  left  the  North- 
ern train  and  took  the  next  one  going  south, 
thinking  by  her  fearlessness  to  escape  detec- 
tion, and  also  to  collect  a  new  band  of  fugi- 
tives. And  so  her  people  came  to  call  Harriet 
Tubman  the  Moses  of  the  black  race.  And, 
following  on,  the  vision  lifted  her  to  a  place 
among  those  whom  the  world  will  not  willingly 
let  die. 

When  the  vision  has  redeemed  bad  men 
to  good  deeds  it  goes  on  to  redeem  good  ones 
unto  perfection.  Here  is  Channing,  with  his 
cultured  scholarship,  his  refined  manners,  his 
gentle  goodness.  So  heavy  were  the  drafts 
study  made  upon  his  strength  that  at  length 
came  a  day  when  the  mere  delivery  of  his 
sermons  and  orations  left  him  physically  ex- 

224 


Visions  that  Disturb  Contentment 

hausted.  But  he  went  smilingly  and  forever 
from  the  pulpit,  and  gave  up  also  the  use  of  his 
pen.  In  that  hour,  when  sorrow  and  gloom 
rested  heavily  upon  those  who  loved  him,  the 
vision  shone  clearly  for  Channing.  He  de- 
termined to  turn  his  whole  life  into  a  sermon 
and  poem.  With  pathetic  eloquence  he  said, 
"It  is,  indeed,  forbidden  me  to  write  or  speak, 
but  not  to  aspire  and  be.  To  live  content 
with  small  means;  to  seek  elegance  rather 
than  luxury,  and  refinement  rather  than 
fashion;  to  be  worthy,  not  respectable,  and 
wealthy,  not  rich;  to  do  all  cheerfully,  bear 
all  bravely;  to  listen  to  stars  and  birds,  to 
babes  and  sages,  with  open  heart;  to  study 
hard,  think  quietly,  act  frankly,  talk  gently, 
await  occasions,  hurry  never — in  a  word,  to  let 
the  spiritual,  unbidden  and  unconscious,  grow 
up  through  the  common — this  is  to  be  my 
symphon)'." 

Into  our  nation  also  has  come  the  disturb- 
ing vision.  Ours  is  called  an  age  of  unrest. 
We  hear  much  about  social  discontent.  Be- 
neath all  the  outer  activity  and  bustle  there 
is  an  undertone  of  profound  sadness.  Neither 
wealth,  pleasure,  nor  politics  has  availed  to 
conceal  the  world's  weariness.  Strangely 
enough,  just  at  a  time  when  prosperity  is 
greatly  increased,  when  our  homes  are  full  of 

225 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

comforts  and  conveniences,  when  all  the  forces 
of  land  and  sea  and  sky  have  lent  themselves 
to  man  as  willing  servants,  to  carry  his  mes- 
sages, run  his  errands,  reap  his  harvests,  pull 
his  trains,  and  push  his  ships;  in  an  age  when 
a  thousand  instruments  that  make  for  refine- 
ment and  culture  have  been  invented,  just  at 
this  time,  strangely  enough,  unrest  and  dis- 
quietude have  fallen  upon  our  people.  Why  is 
our  age  so  sad  ?  Has  Schopenhauer  carried 
the  judgment  of  mankind  by  his  favorite 
motto,  "It  is  safer  to  trust  fear  than  faith  ?  " 
Is  it  because  our  age  has  lost  faith  in  God? 
Have  doubt  and  skepticism  burned  the  divine 
dew  off  the  grass,  and  left  it  sere  and  brown? 
Nay,  a  thousand  times  nay! 

The  world  is  sad  because  it  has  found  God, 
not  lost  him.  Man  is  weary  in  the  midst  of 
his  wealth  and  pleasures  for  the  same  reason 
that  the  young  ruler  was  grieved  and  sad  in 
the  midst  of  his  great  possessions.  Our  age 
has  seen  the  vision  splendid,  but  halts  unde- 
cided, being  yet  unwilling  to  go  on  and  fulfill 
its  new  ideals.  For  those  who  have  eyes  to 
see,  Jesus  Christ  stands  again  in  the  market 
and  the  street.  He  has  given  society  a  new 
vision  of  the  earth  as  a  possible  paradise, 
filled  with  the  fruits  of  peace  and  plenty 
where   none   know   surfeit,    and    none    know 

226 


Visions  that  Disturb  Contentment 

want.  He  has  given  a  vision  of  the  brother- 
hood of  man  and  the  fatherhood  of  God,  and 
that  vision  has  destroyed  the  old  contentment. 
Our  fathers  were  happy  because  what  they 
did  kept  pace  with  what  they  saw.  And  we 
are  unhappy  because  we  are  unwilling  to  do 
what  we  see. 

This  vision  of  possible  excellence  will  con- 
tinue to  haunt  our  generation  until  perform- 
ance shall  have  overtaken  the  ideal  promise.  All 
the  processes  of  buying  and  selling  without 
must  be  carried  up  to  meet  the  require- 
ments of  the  vision  within.  Just  as  in 
Luther's  day  the  vision  divine  disturbed 
Germany  and  filled  the  land  with  unrest  until 
the  people  achieved  spiritual  freedom;  just  as 
in  Cromwell's  day  the  vision  of  freedom  in 
political  relations  came  to  England  and  gave 
disturbance  until  the  doctrine  of  the  divine 
right  of  kings  was  overthrown;  just  as  in  our 
own  day  the  vision  of  liberty  for  all,  without 
regard  to  race  or  color,  disturbed  our  land  and 
filled  our  council  chambers  with  conflict  and 
strife,  and  turned  the  South  into  one  immense 
battle-field,  until  the  laws  of  the  Nation 
matched  the  ideals  of  God — so  to  day,  the 
vision  of  the  brotherhood  of  man  in  Jesus 
Christ  has  fallen  upon  the  home,  the  market, 
and  the  forum,  and  brought  restlessness  and 
discontent  to  our  people. 

227 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

Our  colleges  are  restless,  and  by  the  uni- 
versity extension  plans  are  seeking  to  fulfill 
their  vision  of  wisdom  for  all.  The  church 
hath  seen  the  heavenly  vision,  and,  restless 
and  grieved  at  its  own  failures,  is  rewriting 
its  creeds,  inventing  new  methods  of  social 
sympathy  and  social  help,  and  is  seeking 
eagerly  to  fulfill  its  vision.  Wealth  too,  is 
discontented,  and  by  manifold  gifts  is  becom- 
ing the  almoner  of  universal  bounty  toward 
school  and  college,  and  gallery  and  church. 
Looking  toward  the  council  chamber,  society 
is  becoming  restless,  and  feeling  that  the  coun- 
cil chamber  should  be  as  sacred  as  a  temple,  and 
that  as  of  old  so  now  evil  men  have  turned  the 
temple  into  a  place  for  money-changing,  and 
made  the  house  of  God  a  den  of  thieves.  Good 
men  are  again  lifting  the  scourge  of  small  cords. 
The  discontent  is  becoming  universal.  This 
vision  of  a  new  order  will  continue  to  haunt 
and  disturb  men,  until  at  length  society  will 
make  all  its  activities  Avithout  correspond  to 
the  heavenly  vision  within. 

The  tradition  tells  us  that  when  the  young 
ruler  who  made  the  "great  refusal"  had  re- 
turned home  he  found  the  old  zest  of  life  had 
gone.  Gone  forever  his  contentment  in 
fields  and  flocks,  in  houses  and  horses  and 
goods ;    in  books    and    pictures !     He   himself 

228 


Visions  that  Disturb  Contentment 

seemed  but  a  shadow  moving  through  a 
phantom  world.  Struggle  as  he  would,  he 
could  not  forget  the  new  vision,  nor  find  the 
old  joy.  At  last  he  ceased  struggling,  and, 
fulfilling  his  vision,  he  found  the  cross  was  the 
magic  key  that  opened  the  door  of  happiness. 
And  to  the  youth  of  this  far-off  day,  the 
vision  splendid  doth  come  again.  In  strange 
ways  come  these  luminous  hours  and  exalted 
moods.  Sometimes  they  come  through  mem- 
ory, and  then  the  tones  of  a  voice  long  still  fall 
softly  upon  the  ear  like  celestial  bells  calling 
us  heavenward.  Sometimes  these  luminous 
hours  come  through  the  affections,  when  antici- 
pations of  joy  arc  so  bright  that  it  seems  as  if 
the  youth  reaching  forward  had  plucked  before- 
hand the  fruit  from  the  very  tree  of  life.  For 
some  they  come  through  sorrow,  when  the  soul 
stands  dissolved  in  tears,  even  as  some  per- 
fumed shrub  stands  in  the  June  morning  mak- 
ing the  very  ground  wet  with  falling  I'aindrops. 
Then  the  soul  wanders  here  and  there,  all  dumb 
with  grief,  seeking  comfort,  yet  finding  none. 
Then  sitting  near  the  much-loved  grave,  the 
soul  hears  the  night  winds  whispering,  "Not 
here,  not  here  !"  to  which  the  murmuring  sea 
replies,  "Not  here,"  while  the  weeping  vines 
and  the  mournful  pines  ever  answer,  "Not 
here,  not  here  !"     But  softly  falling  through 

229 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

the    pathless  air  comes  a  voice  murmuring, 
"  Here  !     Here  !     Come  up  hither  !  " 

Oh,    these   luminous    hours  !     These    hours 
of    deeper   conviction    are    life's    real   hours  ! 
Summer  is  sunshine  and  beauty,  not  storm  and 
snow.     There    are  dark   and   wintry   days  in 
March,  when  spring  seems  a  delusion.      There 
are  days  in  April  so  cold  that  summer  seems 
a  snare.     But  between  the  storms   there  are 
brief  warm  intervals  when  the  sun  falls  soft  on 
the  south  hillsides,  and  the  roots  begin  to  stir 
and  the  seeds  to  ache  with  harvests,  and  all 
the  air  is  vocal.     The  fitful  snows  in  April  are 
but  reminders  of  what  the  dying  winter  was; 
but  these  occasional  sunny  days  are  prophecies 
of  what  summer  hath  accomplished  in  its  full 
ministry  npon  the  fields  and  forests. 

And  after  long  pei'iods  of  sodden  selfishness 
and  clouded  sin,  suddenly  the  vision  of  better 
things  breaks  through  the  cloud  and  storm. 
Then  the  vision  strikes  clarity  into  reason, 
memory  and  imagination.  In  these  hours 
the  soul  scoffs  at  sordid  things.  As  the  flower 
climbs  upward  to  escape  from  the  slough,  as 
the  foot  turns  away  from  the  mire,  as  the  nos- 
tril avoids  the  filth,  as  the  ear  hates  discord, 
so  in  these  hours  the  soul  scoffs  at  selfishness 
and  sin.  Oh,  how  beautiful  seem  purity  and 
gentleness,    and  sympathy  and  truth  1      And 

230 


Visions  that  Disturb  Contentment 

these  hours  are  big  with  prophecy.  They  tell 
us  what  the  soul  shall  be  when  time  and  God's 
resources  have  wrought  their  will  upon  man. 
They  are  to  be  cherished  as  the  mariner 
cherishes  the  guiding  star  that  stands  upon 
the  horizon ;  they  are  to  be  cherished  as  some 
traveler,  lost  in  a  close,  dark  forest,  cherishes 
the  moment  when  the  sun  breaks  through  a 
rift  in  the  clouds  and  he  takes  his  bearings  out 
of  the  swamp  and  toward  his  home.  Visions 
are  God  within  the  soul.  They  come  to  lead 
man  away  from  sin  and  sorrow.  They  come  to 
guide  him  to  his  heavenly  home. 


J 


i 


The  Uses  of  Books  and  Reading 


"  Bring  with  the  books." — Paul. 

"  A  good  book  is  the  precious  lifeblood  of  a  master 
spirit  embalmed  and  treasured  up  on  purpose  to  a  life 
beyond  life." — Milton. 

"  God  be  thanked  for  books.  They  are  the  voices 
of  the  distant  and  the  dead,  and  make  us  heirs  of  the 
spiritual  life  of  past  ages.  In  the  best  books  great 
men  talk  to  us,  give  us  their  most  precious  thoughts 
and  pour  their  souls  into  ours." — Channiim. 

"  All  that  mankind  has  done,  thought  or  been  is 
lying  as  in  magic  preservation  in  the  pages  of  books. 
They  are  the  chosen  possession  of  men." — Carlyle. 

"  We  need  to  be  reminded  every  day  how  many  are 
the  books  of  inimitable  glory,  which,  with  all  our 
eagerness  after  reading,  we  have  never  taken  into 
our  hands.  It  will  astonish  most  of  us  to  find  how 
much  of  our  very  industry  is  given  to  the  books 
which  have  no  worth,  how  often  we  rake  in  the  litter 
of  the  printing  press,  whilst  a  crown  of  gold  and 
rubies  is  offered  us  in  vain."— F,  Harrison. 


XI 

The  Uses  of  Books  and  Reading 

pAUL  was  at  once  a  thinkci',  a  theologian, 
■^  and  a  statesman,  because  he  was  always  a 
scholar.  One  duty  he  never  neglected — the 
duty  of  self-culture  through  reading.  Certain 
companions  were  ever  with  him — his  favorite 
authors.  Imprisoned  in  Rome,  the  burden  of 
his  letters  to  his  young  friend  in  Ephesus  was 
books  and  the  duty  of  reading.  Himself  a  He- 
brew, by  much  study  he  became  a  cosmopoli- 
tan and  a  citizen  of  the  wide-lying  universe. 
Like  Emerson,  he  believed  that '  'the  scholar  was 
a  favorite  of  heaven  and  earth,  the  excellency  of 
his  country,  and  the  happiest  of  men."  Saner 
intellect  than  his  never  ti'od  this  earth,  and 
could  he  speak  to  our  age,  with  its  fret  and  fe- 
ver, his  message  would  certainly  include  some 
words  about  the  companionship  of  good  books. 
The  supreme  privilege  of  our  generation  is 
not  rapid  transit,  nor  the  increase  of  comforts 
and  luxuries.  Modern  civilization  hath  its 
flower  and  fruitage  in  books  and  culture  for  all 
through  reading.     Should  the  di'eam  of  the  as- 

235 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

tronomer  ever  come  true,  and  science  establish 
a  code  of  electric  signals  with  the  people  of 
Mars,  our  first  messaore  would  not  be  about  en- 
gines,  nor  looms,  nor  steamships.  Not  the  tele- 
phone by  which  men  speak  across  continents, 
but  the  book  by  which  living  men  and  dead 
men  converse  across  centuries,  would  be  the 
bui'den  of  the  first  message.  President  Porter 
once  said  that  the  savage  visiting  London  with 
Livingstone  appreciated  everything  except  the 
libraries.  The  poor  black  man  understood  the 
gallery,  for  the  face  of  his  child  answered  to  that 
of  Raphael's  cherub  and  seraph.  He  under- 
stood the  cathedral,  with  its  aisles  and  arches, 
for  it  reminded  him  of  his  own  altars  and  fu- 
neral hymns.  He  understood  the  city,  for  it 
seemed  like  many  little  towns  brought  together 
in  one.  But  the  great  library,  crowded  from 
floor  to  ceiling  with  books,  the  strange,  white 
pages  over  which  bowed  the  reader,  while 
smiles  flitted  across  his  face  as  one  sun-spot 
chases  another  over  the  warm  April  hills,  the 
black  marks  causing  the  reader's  tears  to  flow 
down  upon  the  open  page,  made  up  a  mystery 
the  poor  savage  could  not  understand.  No  ex- 
planation availed  for  the  necromancy  of  the 
library. 

For  wise  men  the  joys  of  reading  ai'e  life's 
crowning  pleasures.     Books  are  our  universi- 

236 


The  Uses  of  Books  and  Reading 

ties,  where  souls  are  the  professors.  Books 
are  the  looms  that  weave  rapidly  man's  inner 
garments.  Books  are  the  levelers — not  by 
lowering  the  great,  but  by  lifting  up  the  small. 
A  book  literally  fulfills  the  story  of  the  Wan- 
dering Jew,  who  sits  down  by  our  side  and  like 
a  familiar  friend  tells  us  what  he  hath  seen  and 
heard  through  twenty  centuries  of  traveling 
through  Europe.  Newton's  "Principia" 
means  that  at  last  stars  and  suns  have 
broken  into  voice.  Agassiz's  zoology  causes 
each  youth  to  be  a  veritable  Noah,  to  whom 
it  is  given  to  behold  all  insects  and  beasts 
and  birds  going  two  by  two  into  the  world's 
great  ark.  God  hath  given  us  four  in- 
ferior teachers,  including  travel,  occupation, 
industry,  conversation,  and  four  teachers  su- 
perior, including  love,  grief,  death — but  chiefly 
books. 

Wisdom  and  knowledge  are  derived  from 
sources  many  and  various.  Like  ancient. 
Thebes,  the  soul  is  a  city  having  gates  on  every 
side.'  There  is  the  eye  gate,  and  through  it 
pass  friends,  a  multitude  of  strangers,  the 
forests,  the  fields,  the  marching  clouds.  There 
is  the  ear  gate,  and  therein  go  trooping  all 
sweet  songs,  all  conversation  and  eloqunce,  all 
laughter  with  Niobe's  woe  and  grief.  There  is 
conversation,  and  thereby  we  cross  the  thres- 

237 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

hold  of  another's  mind,  and  wander  through 
the  halls  of  memory  and  the  chambers  of  imag- 
ination. But  these  faculties  are  limited.  The 
ear  was  made  for  one  sweet  song,  not  for  a 
thousand.  Conversation  is  with  one  friend  liv- 
ing, not  with  Pliny  and  Pericles.  The  vision 
stays  upon  yonder  horizon  ;  but  beyond  the  line 
where  earth  and  sky  do  meet  are  distant  lands 
and  historic  scenes  ;  beyond  are  battle-fields  all 
stained  with  blood  ;  beyond  are  the  Parthenon 
and  the  pyramids.  So  books  come  in  to  in- 
crease the  power  of  vision.  Books  cause  the 
ai'ctics  and  the  tropics,  the  mountains  and 
hills,  all  the  generations  with  their  woes  and 
wars,  their  achievements  for  liberty  and  reli- 
gion, to  pass  before  the  mind  for  instruction  and 
delight.  And  when  books  have  made  men  con- 
temporaneous with  Socrates  and  Cicero,  with 
Emerson  and  Lowell,  when  they  have  made 
man  a  citizen  of  every  clime- and  country,  they 
go   on    to   add    advantages    still  more  signal. 

• 

When  the  royal  messenger  brought  Newton  the 
announcement  of  the  honor  bestowed  upon  him 
by  the  Queen,  the  astronomer  was  so  busy  with 
his  studies  relating  to  the  "  Principia  "  that  he 
begrudged  his  visitor  even  an  hour  of  his  time. 
The  great  man  was  too  busy  writing  for 
thousands  to  talk  long  with  a  single  individual 
about  his  discoveries  of   light  and  color  and 

238 


The  Uses  of  Books  and  Reading 

his  proofs  of  the  moon  ever  falling  to- 
ward the  earth.  Not  even  to  his  best  friends 
could  the  astronomer  unfold  through  conversa- 
tion what  he  gives  us  in  his  "  Principia."  When 
an  American  author  called  upon  Carlyle  he 
found  him  in  a  very  peevish  mood.  Through 
two  hours  he  listened  to  this  student  of  heroes 
and  heroism  pour  forth  a  savage  tirade  against 
all  men  and  things.  Never  again  was  the 
American  poet  able  to  associate  with  Carlyle 
that  fine  poise,  sanity,  and  reserve  power  that 
belong  to  the  greatest.  In  his  books  Car- 
lyle gives  his  friends,  not  the  peevishness  of 
an  evening,  but  the  best  moods  of  all  his  life, 
winnowinsf  his  intellectual  harvests. 

Recently  an  author  has  given  the  world  remi- 
niscences called  "Evenings"  with  Browningand 
Tennyson,  with  Bright  and  Gladstone.  Yet  an 
evening  avails  only  for  a  few  pleasantries,  a  few 
anecdotes,  a  few  reminiscences.  As  well  speak 
of  spending  an  afternoon  with  Egypt  or  mak- 
ing an  evening  call  upon  Rome.  Yet  a  volume  of 
"In  Memoriam"  or  "The  Idylls  of  the  King" 
enables  one  to  overhear  the  richest  and  most 
masterly  thoughts  that  occupied  Tennyson 
through  the  best  creative  years  in  his  career. 
So  striking  are  the  advantages  books  have  over 
conversation  that  the  brief  biography  of  the 
Carpenter's  Son   makes   us  better  acquainted 

239 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

with  Jesus  Chi-ist  than  the  citizens  of  Samaria 
or  Bethlehem  could  possibly  have  been.  To 
some  Nicodemus  it  was  given  to  hear  Him  dis- 
course on  the  new  heart  ;  some  lawyer  heard 
His  story  of  tlie  good  Samaritan  ;  others  midst 
the  press  and  thi'ong  caught  a  part  of  the  tale 
of  the  prodigal  son.  But  the  momentary 
glimpse,  the  fragmentary  word,  the  rumors 
strange  and  conti-adictory,  yielded  only  con- 
fusion and  mental  unrest.  But  this  brief  biog- 
raphy exhibits  to  us  His  entire  career,  sets 
each  eager  listener  down  beside  Christ  while 
He  unrolls  each  glowing  parable,  each  glorious 
precept,  each  call  to  inspiration  and  the  higher 
life.  Thus  boolis  acquaint  us  with  the  best 
men  in  their  best  moods. 

Books  have  two  advantages.  Chiefly  they 
are  tools  for  the  mind.  The  foot's  step  is 
short,  but  the  engine  lengthens  the  stride  and 
hastens  it.  The  smith's  blow  is  weak,  but  the 
trip-hammer  multiplies  the  might  of  man's 
hand.  Thus  books  are  mental  machines,  en- 
abling the  mind  of  man  to  reap  in  many  har- 
vest fields  and  multiply  the  mental  treasures. 
It  takes  years  for  Humboldt  to  search  out  the 
wonders  of  the  Andes  Mountains  and  other 
years  for  Livingstone  to  thread  his  way 
thi'ough  the  jungles  of  Africa.  But  a  book, 
during  two  or  three  evenings  by  the  fireside, 

240 


The  Uses  of  Books  and  Reading 

enables  man  to  journey  through  the  Dark  Con- 
tinent without  the  dangers  of  fever,  without 
experiencing  the  pain  from  the  lion  leaping  out 
of  the  thicket  to  mutilate  the  arm  of  Living- 
stone. With  a  book  we  tramp  over  the  moun- 
tains of  two  continents  without  once  suffering 
the  heavy  fall  over  the  precipice  that  weakened 
Humboldt.  Books  enable  us  to  visit  climes, 
cities,  civilizations  ancient  and  modern,  that 
without  them  could  never  be  seen  during  man's 
years,  so  few,  and  by  man's  strength,  so  insuf- 
ficient. Great  men  and  rich  increase  their  in- 
fluence by  surrounding  themselves  by  servants 
who  fulfill  their  commands. 

Each  president  and  prime  minister  sti'ength- 
ens  himself  by  a  cabinet.  But  what  if  the 
peasant  or  workman  could  surround  himself 
with  a  group  of  counselors  and  advisers  that 
included  a  hundred  of  the  greatest  intellects  of 
his  generation?  What  if  some  Herschei  should 
approach  the  youth  to  say,  "You  need  your 
night's  rest  for  sleep;  but  for  you  I  will  give 
the  years  for  studying  the  stars  and  their 
movements?"  What  if  some  Dana  should  say, 
"  For  you  I  will  decipher  the  handwriting  upon 
the  rocks,  trace  the  movement  of  the  ice  plov.-s, 
search  out  the  influence  of  the  flames  as  they 
turn  rocks  into  soil  for  vineyards?"  What  if 
some  Audubon  should  say,  "For  you  I  will  go 

241 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

through  all  the  forests  to  find  out  the  life  and 
history  of  the  winged  creatures,  from  the 
humming-bird  to  hawk  and  eagle?"  What 
if  Niebuhr  should  say,  "For  you  I  will  decipher 
the  monuments,  all  ruins  and  obelisks,  all  man's 
parchments  and  manuscripts  for  setting  forth 
man's  upward  progress  through  the  cen- 
turies?" But  this  is  precisely  what  books  do 
for  us. 

Saving  man's  time  and  strength,  books 
also  increase  his  manhood  and  multiply  his 
brain  forces.  With  them,  a  man  of  fourscore 
years  ends  his  career  wiser  than,  without 
them,  he  could  have  been,  though  he  had  lived 
and  wrought  through  ten  thousand  summers 
and  winters.  This  is  what  Emerson  means 
when  he  says,  "Give  me  a  book,  health  and  a 
June  day,  and  I  will  make  the  pomp  of  kings 
ridiculous."  When  the  Athenian  youth,  be- 
loved of  the  gods,  went  forth  upon  his  journey, 
one  friend  brought  him  a  wondrous  armor, 
proof  against  arrows;  another  brought  a  horse 
of  marvelous  swiftness;  another  brought  a  bow 
of  great  size  and  strength.  Thus  armed,  the 
youth  conquered  his  enemies.  But  when  books 
have  armed  man  against  his  foes,  they  go  on 
to  change  his  enemies  into  friends;  they  shield 
him  against  ignorance;  they  free  him  fi'om  su- 
perstition ;    they    clothe    him    with  gratitude. 

?43 


The  Uses  of  Books  and  Reading 

Thank  God  for  books,  cheering  our  solitude, 
soothing  our  sickness,  refining  our  passions, 
out  of  defeat  leading  us  to  victory!  That  youth 
can  scarcely  fail  of  character,  happiness  and 
success  who,  day  by  day,  goes  to  school  to 
sages  and  seers;  who  by  night  hears  Dante  and 
Milton  discourse  upon  Paradise;  who  has  for 
his  mentors  in  office  and  counting-room  some 
Franklin  or  Solomon.  Experience,  supple- 
mented by  books,  teaches  youth  more  in  one 
year  than  experience  alone  will  teach  him  in 
twenty. 

Books  also  preserve  for  us  the  spirit  of 
earth's  great  ones,  just  as  the  cellar  of  the  king 
holds  wines  growing  more  precious  with  the 
lapse  of  years.  From  time  to  time  God  sends 
to  earth  some  man  with  a  supreme  gift  called 
genius.  Passing  through  our  life  and  world, 
he  sees  wondrous  sights  not  beholden  of  our 
eyes,  hears  melodies  too  fine  for  our  dulled 
hearing.  What  other  men  behold  as  bits  of 
coal,  his  genius  transmutes  into  diamonds.  In 
the  darkness  he  sleeps  to  see  some  "Mid- 
summer Night's  Dream;"  in  the  day  he  wakens 
to  behold  the  tragedy  or  comedy  in  his  friend's 
career.  While  he  muses,  the  fires  of  inspira- 
tion burn  within  him.  When  the  time  comes, 
the  inner  forces  burst  out  in  book  or  song  or 
poem,  just  as  the  tulip  bulb  when  April  conigs 

243 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

publishes  its  heart  of  fire  and  gold.  The  book 
he  writes  is  the  choicest  wine  in  life,  "the  gold 
made  fine  in  the  fires  of  his  genius."  Seldom 
come  these  elect  ones,  just  as  the  bush  burned 
only  once  during  Moses'  many  years  in  the  des- 
ert. Not  many  Platos — one,  and  then  all  men 
become  better  thinkers.  Not  many  Shake- 
speares — one,  and  then  each  young  poet  rises 
to  a  higher  level. 

Thinking  of  these  great  ones,  Milton  said: 
"The  book  is  the  life-blood  of  the  master 
spirit."  Just  as  the  wisdom  spoken  into  the 
phonograph  makes  marks  there  to  be  reproduced 
at  will,  so  books  preserve  and  repeat  the  elo- 
quence of  the  greatest.  Through  his  "  Excur- 
sion," when  Wordsworth  says,  "I  goto  the 
fields  to-day,"  the  youth  may  whisper,  "and  I 
go  with  thee."  He  may  also  accompany  Lay- 
ard,  going  forth  to  study  the  old  tablets  and 
the  monuments;  with  Scott  he  may  ride  with 
Ivanhoe  to  castle  and  tournament;  with  Virgil 
and  Dante  he  may  shiver  at  the  brink  of  the 
inky  river  or  exult  over  the  first  glimpse  of 
Paradise. 

Well  did  Charles  Lamb  suggest  that  men 
should  say  grace — not  only  over  the  Christmas 
festival,  but  also  over  the  table  spread  with 
good  books.  For  man  has  no  truer  friends, 
Earth  offers  no  richer  banquet.  When  Southey 

244 


The  Uses  of  Books  and  Reading 

grew  old  and  dim  of  vision,  he  was  seen  to 
totter  into  his  library.  Moving  about  from 
shelf  to  shelf  the  aged  scholar  laid  his  hand 
upon  one  favorite  book  and  then  upon  another, 
while  a  rare  sweet  smile  passed  over  his  face, 
just  as  we  lay  hand  tenderly  upon  the  shoulder 
of  some  dear  friend.  Through  their  books  his 
old  friends,  the  heroes  of  the  past,  had  told 
Southey  of  tlunr  innermost  dreams,  their  pas- 
sions, their  aspirations,  what  braced  them  in 
hours  of  battle,  how  they  endui'ed  when  death 
robbed  them  of  their  best.  Poor  and  lonely, 
full  oft  the  poet  had  talked  with  these  volumes 
as  with  familiar  friends.  So  before  he  died 
Southey  said  to  his  books  "Good  night,"  ere 
in  that  bright  beyond  he  said  "Good  morning" 
to  their  authors. 

This  divine  injunction  as  to  the  companion- 
ship of  books  bids  us  search  out  the  use  and 
purpose  of  reading.  Primarily,  books  are  to 
be  read  for  information  and  mental  strength. 
The  hunger  of  the  body  for  bread  and  fruit  is 
not  more  real  than  the  hunger  of  the  intellect 
for  facts  and  principles.  Knowledge  stands  in 
as  vital  relation  to  the  growth  of  reason  as 
iron  and  phosphate  to  the  enrichment  of  the 
blood.  Ignorance  is  weakness.  Success  is 
knowing  how.  Ours  is  a  world  in  which  the  last 
fact  conquers.     In  addition  to  his  own  expe- 

245 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

rience  and  reflection,  the  young  artist  must 
stand  in  some  gallery  that  brings  together 
all  the  best  masters.  Standing  beside  the 
Elgin  marbles  in  the  British  Museum,  the 
sculptor  must  bathe  and  soak  himself  in 
the  Greek  ideal  and  spirit,  until  the  Greek 
thought  throbs  in  his  brain,  and  he  feels  the 
Greek  enthusiasm  for  strength  in  round, 
lithe  arms,  and  limbs  made  ready  for  the  race. 
But  in  a  large,  deep  sense,  books  are  the 
galleries  in  which  spirits  are  caught  and 
fastened  upon  the  pages.  Books  are  store- 
houses into  which  facts  and  principles  have 
been  harvested.  Just  as  a  bit  of  coal  tells 
us  what  ferns  and  flowers  jirew  in  the  far- 
off  era,  so  the  book  gives  us  the  very  quin- 
tessence of  man's  thoughts  about  life  and 
duty  and  death.  Nor  is  there  any  other 
way  of  gaining  these  vital  knowledges.  Life 
is  too  short  to  obtain  them  through  conver- 
sation or  travel.  Nor  is  any  youth  ready 
for  his  task  until  he  has  traced  the  rise  and 
growth  of  houses,  tools,  governments,  schools, 
industries,  religions.  He  must  also  compare 
race  with  race,  land  with  land,  and  star  with 
star.  Asked  about  his  ideas  of  the  value  of 
education,  a  man  distinguished  in  railway  cir- 
cles answered:  "I  have  learned  that  each 
jiew  fact  has   its  money  value.     Other  things 

246 


The  Uses  of  Books  and  Reading 

being  equal,  the  judgment  of  the  man  who 
knows  the  most  must  always  prevail."  But 
books  alone  can  supplement  experience,  and 
give  the  information  that  makes  man  ready 
against  his  day  of  battle. 
M  It  has  been  said,  "For  a  thousand  men  who 
can  speak,  there  is  only  one  who  can  think ;  for 
a  thousand  men  who  can  think,  there  is  only 
one  who  can  see."  Since,  then,  the  greatest 
thing  in  life  is  to  have  an  open  vision,  we 
need  to  ask  the  authors  to  teach  us  how  to  see. 
Each  Kingsley  approaches  a  stone  as  a  jeweler 
approaches  a  casket  to  unlock  the  hidden  gems. 
Geikie  causes  the  bit  of  hard  coal  to  unroll  the 
juicy  bud,  the  thick  odorous  leaves,  the  pun- 
gent boughs,  until  the  bit  of  carbon  enlarges 
into  the  beauty  of  a  tropic  forest.  That  little 
book  of  Grant  Allen's  called  "How  Plants 
Grow "  exhibits  trees  and  shrubs  as  eating, 
drinking  and  marrying.  We  see  certain  date 
groves  in  Palestine,  and  other  date  groves  in 
the  desert  a  hundred  miles  asvay,  and  the  pollen 
of  the  one  carried  upon  the  trade  winds  to 
the  branches  of  the  other.  We  see  the  tree 
v/ith  its  strange  system  of  water-works,  pump- 
ing the  sap  up  through  pipes  and  mains;  we 
see  the  chemical  laboratory  in  the  branches 
mixing  flavor  for  the  orange  in  one  bough,  mix- 
ing the  juices  of  the  pineapple  in  another;  we 

247 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

behold  the  tree  as  a  mother,  making  each  infant 
acorn  ready  against  the  long  winter,  rolling  it 
in  swaths  soft  and  warm  as  wool  blankets, 
wrapping  it  around  with  garments  impervious 
to  the  rain,  and  finally  slipping  the  infant  acorn 
into  a  sleeping  bag,  like  those  the  Esquimos 
gave  Dr.  Kane. 

At  length  we  come  to  feel  that  the  Greeks 

were  not  far  wrong  in  tliinking  each  tree  had 

a    Dryad  in    it,   animating    it,    protecting   it 

against    destruction,    dying    when     the    tree 

withered.     Some  Faraday  shows  us  that  each 

drop  of  water  is   a  sheath    for  electric  forces 

sufficient  to  charge  800,000    Leyden  jars,   or 

drive  an   engine    from    Liverpool  to  London. 

Some    Sir    William    Thomson    tells    us     how 

hydrogen  gas  will  chew  up  a  large  iron  spike 

as  a  child's  molars    will    chew  off  the  end  of 

a  stick  of  candy.     Thus  each  new  book  opens 

up  some  new  and    hitherto  unexplored  realm 

of    nature.      Thus    books     fulfill    for    us    the 

legend    of    the    wondrous    glass  that  showed 

its    owner    all   things   distant  and   all  things 

hidden.     Thi'ough  books  our  world  becomes  as 

"  a  bud  from  the  bower  of  God's  beauty;  the 

sun  as  a  spark  from  the  light  of  His  wisdom; 

the  sky  as  a  bubble  on  the  sea  of  His  Power." 

Therefore  Mrs.   Browning's  words,    "  No  child 

can  be  called  fatherless  who  has  God  and  hU 

248 


The  Uses  of  Books  and  Reading 

mother;  no  youth  can  be  called  friendless  who 
has    God     and    the     companionship    of    good 

books." 

Books  also  advantage  us  in  that  they  ex- 
hibit the  unity  of  progress,  the  solidarity 
of  the  race,  and  the  continuity  of  his- 
tory. Authors  lead  us  back  along  the  path- 
way of  law,  of  liberty  or  religion,  and  set 
us  down  in  front  of  the  great  man  in  whose 
brain  the  principle  had  its  rise.  As  the  dis- 
coverer leads  us  from  the  mouth  of  the  Nile 
back  to  the  headwaters  of  Nyanza,  so  books 
exhibit  great  ideas  and  institutions,  as  they 
move  forward,  ever  widening  and  deepening, 
like  some  Nile  feeding  many  civilizations. 
For  all  the  refoi-ms  of  to-day  go  back  to  some 
reform  of  yesterday.  Man's  art  goes  back 
to  Athens  and  Thebes.  Man's  laws  go  back 
to  Blackstone  and  Justinian.  Man's  reapers 
and  plows  go  back  to  the  savage  scratching 
the  ground  with  his  forked  stick,  drawn  by  the 
wild  bullock.  The  heroes  of  liberty  march 
forward  in  a  solid  column.  Lincoln  grasps  the 
hand  of  Washington.  Washington  received 
his  weapons  at  the  hands  of  Hampden  and 
Cromwell.  The  great  Puritans  lock  hands 
with  Luther  and  Savonarola. 

The  unbroken  procession  brings  us  at  length 
to  Him  whose  Sermon  on  the  Mount  was  the 

249 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

very  charter  of  liberty.  It  puts  us  under  a 
divine  spell  to  perceive  that  we  are  all 
coworkers  with  the  gi-eat  men,  and  yet  single 
threads  in  the  warp  and  woof  of  civilization. 
And  when  books  have  related  us  to  our  own 
age,  and  related  all  the  epochs  to  God,  whose 
providence  is  the  gulf  stream  of  history,  these 
teachers  go  on  to  stimulate  us  to  new  and 
greater  achievements.  Alone,  man  is  an 
unlighted  candle.  The  mind  needs  some  book 
to  kindle  its  faculties.  Before  Byron  began 
to  write  he  used  to  give  half  an  hour  to  read- 
ing some  favorite  passage.  The  thought  of 
some  great  writer  never  failed  to  kindle  Byron 
into  a  creative  glow,  even  as  a  match  lights 
the  kindlings  upon  the  grate.  In  these  burn- 
ing, luminous  moods  Byron's  mind  did  its  best 
work.  The  true  book  stimulates  the  mind  as 
no  wine  can  ever  quicken  the  blood.  It  is 
reading  that  brings  us  to  our  best,  and  rouses 
each  faculty  to  its  most  vigorous  life. 

Remembering,  then,  that  it  is  as  dangerous  to 
read  the  first  book  one  chances  upon  as  for  a 
stranger  in  the  city  to  make  friends  with  the 
first  person  passing  by,  let  us  consider  the 
selection  and  the  friendship  of  books.  Fred- 
eric Harrison  tells  us  that  there  are  now 
2,000,000  volumes  in  the  libi^aries,  and  that 
every  few  years  the  press  issues  enough  new 

250 


The  Uses  of  Books  and  Reading 

volumes  to  make  a  pyramid  equal  to  St.  Paul's 
Cathedral.  Lamenting  the  number  of  books 
of  poor  quality  now  being  published,  this  au- 
thor questions  whether  or  not  the  printing 
press  may  not  be  one  of  the  scourges  of  man- 
kind. He  tells  that  he  reads  but  few  books, 
and  those  the  great  ones,  and  describes  his 
shipwreck  on  the  infinite  sea  of  printer's  ink, 
and  his  rescue  as  of  one  escaping  by  mercy  from 
a  region  where  there  was  water,  water  every- 
where but  not  a  drop  to  drink.  Let  us  confess 
that  books  by  their  very  multitude  bewilder, 
and  that  careless  and  purposeless  reading 
destroys  the  mind.  Let  us  admit,  too,  that 
books  no  more  mean  culture  than  laws  mean 
virtues. 

Doubtless,  individuality  is  threatened  by 
the  vast  cataract  of  literature.  As  chil- 
dren, we  trembled  needlessly  wlien  the  nurse 
told  us  that  skies  rained  pitchforks,  but  as  men 
we  have  a  rioht  to  fear  when  the  skies  rain  not 
pitchforks  but  pamphlets.  Multitudes  are  in 
the  condition  of  the  schoolboy  who,  when  asked 
what  he  was  thinking  about,  answered  that  he 
had  no  thoughts,  because  he  was  so  busy  read- 
ing he  had  no  time  to  think.  Like  that  boy, 
multitudes  to-day  cannot  see  the  wood  for 
the  trees.  Many  stand  before  the  vast  abyss 
of  literature  as  Bunyan's  pilgrim  stood  before 

251 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

the  Slough  of  Despond,  crying:  "What  shall 
I  do  ?"  The  necessity  of  severe  selection  is 
upon  us,  but  certain  things  all  must  read. 

First  of  all,  every  year  each  young  man  and 
woman  should  take  a  fi-esh  look  about  the  world 
house  in  which  all  live.  When  Ivanhoe  waked 
to  find  himself  a  prisoner  in  a  strange  castle  he 
straightway  explored  the  mansion,  passing 
from  chamber  to  banquet  hall,  and  from  tower 
to  moat,  and  the  high  walls  that  shut  him  in. 
If,  indeed,  God  did  so  dearly  love  this  star  as  to 
use  its  very  dust  for  making  man  in  His  own 
image,  we  ought  to  love  and  study  well  this 
world  house,  wherein  is  enacted  the  drama  of 
man's  life  and  death.  Longfellow  thought  of  our 
earth  as  a  granite-sheathed  ship  sailing  through 
air,  with  plate  of  mail  bolted  and  clamped 
by  the  Almighty  mechanism,  the  throbbingsof 
Vesuvius  hinting  at  the  deep  furnaces  that  help 
to  drive  her  forward  upon  the  voyage  through 
space.  But  God's  name  for  this  earth  house 
was  Paradise.  And  a  veritable  paradise  it  is, 
with  its  vegetable  carpet,  soft  and  embroidered, 
beneath  man's  feet;  with  its  valleys  covered 
with  corn  until  they  laugh  and  sing;  with  its 
noble  architecture  of  the  mountains  covered 
with  mighty  carvings  and  painted  legends. 
Verily,  it  would  be  an  ungi*acious  thing  for  us 
to  go  on  living  here  without  taking  the  trouble 

252 


The  Uses  of  Books  and  Reading 

to  look  upon  this  earth's  floor,  so  firm  and  solid, 
or  study  the  beauteous  ceiling  lighted  with 
star  lamps  by  night.  And  the  evenings  of  one 
week  with  Geikie  or  Dana  will  tell  us  by  what 
furnaces  of  fire  the  granite  was  melted,  by 
what  teeth  of  glaciers  and  weight  of  sea-waves 
the  earth's  surface  was  smoothed  for  the  plow 
and  the  trowel.  How  long  it  has  been  since 
the  glacier  was  a  mile  thick  upon  the  very  spot 
where  we  stand,  how  long:  since  the  waters  of 
Lake  Michigan,  now  flowing  over  Niagara, 
ceased  flowing  into  the  Mississippi. 

The  eveninors  of  another  week  with  Professor 
Gray  or  Grant  Allen  will  tell  us  how  all  the 
trees  and  plants  live  and  breathe  and  wax  great; 
how  the  lily  sucks  whiteness  out  of  the  slough, 
and  how  the  red  rose  untwists  the  sunbeam 
and  pulls  out  the  scarlet  threads.  The 
eveninijs  of  another  week  with  Ball  or  Proctor 
or  Langley  will  exhibit  the  sun  pulling  the 
harvests  out  of  our  planet,  even  as  the  blazing 
log  pulls  the  juices  out  of  the  apples  roasting 
before  the  hot  coals;  how  large  a  house  on  the 
moon  must  be  in  order  to  be  seen  by  the  new 
telescope  at  Lake  Geneva;  whether  or  not  the 
spots  on  the  sun  represent  great  chunks  of  un- 
burned  material,  some  of  which  are  a  full  thou- 
sand miles  across,  materials  thrown  up  by  gas- 
eous explosions.       While  Maury  will   take  us 

253 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

dui'ing  another  week,  in  a  glass  boat  that  is 
water-tight,  upon  a  long  cruise  more  than 
three  thousand  leagues  under  the  sea,  showing 
us  those  graveyards  called  sea  shells,  those 
cities  called  coral  reefs,  those  strange  animals 
that  have  roots  instead  of  feet,  called  sponges. 
Having  journeyed  around  the  earth  house, 
each  should  study  himself;  his  body  as  an  en- 
gine of  mental  thought,  an  instrument  of  con- 
duct and  character;  the  number  and  nature 
and  uses  of  the  forty  and  more  faculties  of  mind 
and  heart  with  which  he  is  endowed.  From 
the  study  of  the  soul  the  mind  moves  easily  to 
the  upward  movement  of  the  race,  as  man  jour- 
neys from  hut  to  house,  from  tent  to  temple, 
from  force  to  self-government  and  education 
and  literature,  from  his  flaming  altar  to  the 
rising  hymn  and  aspiring  pi-ayer.  This  tells 
us  what  contribution  each  race,  Hebrew  and 
Greek,  Roman  and  Teuton,  has  made  to  civili- 
zation. Then  come  the  books  of  life,  wherein 
the  qualities  to  be  emulated  are  capitalized  in 
the  lives  of  the  great,  for  biography  is  one  of 
man's  best  teachers.  Therein  we  see  how  the 
hero  bore  up  against  his  wrongs,  his  sorrows  and 
defeats,  and  how  he  sustained  himself  in  times 
of  triumph.  Phillips  Brooks  thought  that  the 
basis  of  every  library  should  be  biography,  me- 
moirs,  portraits  and  letters.     Nor  should  we 

254 


The  Uses  of  Books  and  Readintj 


t> 


forget  the  books  of  art,  wherein  the  facts  of 
life  are  idealized  and  carried  up  to  beauty. 
Witness  the  dramas,  poems,  or  the  several 
great  novels. 

But  apart  from  and  above  all  others  is  the 
book,  the  Bible.  Alone  it  has  civilized  whole 
nations.  Be  our  theories  of  inspiration  what 
they  may,  this  book  deals  with  the  deepest 
things  in  man's  heart  and  life.  Ruskin  and 
Carlyle  tell  us  that  they  owe  more  to  it  in  the 
way  of  refinement  and  culture  than  to  all  the 
other  books,  phis  all  the  influence  of  colleges 
and  universities.  Therein  the  greatest  gen- 
iuses of  time  tell  us  of  the  things  they  caught 
fresh  from  the  skies,  "the  things  that  stormed 
upon  them,  and  surged  through  their  souls  in 
mighty  tides,  entrancing  them  with  match- 
less music";  things  so  precious  for  man's 
heart  and  conscience  as  to  be  endured 
and  died  for.  It  is  the  one  book  that  can  fully 
lead  forth  the  richest  and  deepest  and  sweet- 
est things  in  man's  nature.  Read  all  other 
books,  philosophy,  poetry,  history,  fiction;  but 
if  you  would  refine  the  judgment,  fertilize  the 
reason,  wing  the  imagination,  attain  unto  the 
finest  womanhood  or  the  sturdiest  manhood, 
read  this  book,  reverently  and  prayerfully, 
until  its  truths  have  dissolved  like  iron  into 
the  blood.     Read,   indeed,   the   hundred  great 

255 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

books.  If  you  have  no  time,  make  time  and 
read.  Read  as  toil  the  slaves  in  Golconda, 
casting  away  the  rubbish  and  keeping  the 
gems.  Read  to  transmute  facts  into  life,  but  read 
daily  the  book  of  conduct  and  character — the 
Bible.  For  the  book  Daniel  Webster  placed 
under  his  pillow  when  dying  is  the  book  all 
should  carry  in  the  hand  while  living. 


The  Science  of  Living  With  Men 


"  There  is  an  art  of  right  living." — Arthur  Helps. 

"  The  supreme  art  life  above  all  other  arts  is  the  art 
of  living  together  justly  and  charitably.  There  is  no 
other  thing  that  is  so  taxing,  requiring  so  much 
education,  so  much  wisdom,  so  much  practice,  as 
the  how  to  live  with  our  fellow-men.  In  importance 
this  art  exceeds  all  productive  industries  which  we 
teach  our  children.  All  skill  and  knowledge  aside 
from  that  is  as  nothing.  The  business  of  life  is  to 
know  how  to  get  along  with  our  fellow-men." — H.  W. 
Beecher. 

"  As  all  the  stars  are  pervaded  by  one  law,  in  one 
law  live  and  move  and  have  their  being,  so  all  minds 
that  reason  and  all  hearts  that  beat,  act  in  one  empire 
of  one  king;  and  of  that  vast  kingdom,  the  law  the 
most  sweeping,  the  most  eternal,  is  the  law  of  loving 
kindness. " — Swing. 

"  The  nations  have  turned  their  places  of  art 
treasure  into  battle-fields.  Fancy  what  Europe 
would  be  now  if  the  delicate  statues  and  temples  of 
the  Greeks — if  the  broad  and  massive  walls  of  the 
Romans,  if  the  noble  and  pathetic  architecture  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  had  not  been  ground  to  dust  by  mere 
human  rage.  You  talk  of  the  scythe  of  time  and  the 
tooth  of  time;  I  tell  you  time  is  scytheless  and  tooth- 
less; it  is  we  who  gnaw  like  the  worm,  we  who  smite 
like  the  scythe.  All  these  lost  treasures  of  human 
intellect  have  been  wholly  destroyed  by  human 
industry  of  destruction;  the  marble  would  have  stood 
its  2,000  years  as  well  in  the  polished  statue  as  in  the 
Parian  cliff;  but  we  men  have  ground  it  to  powder 
and  mixed  it  with  our  own  ashes." — Ruskin. 


XII 

The  Science  of  Living  With  Men 

THE  great  writers  of  all  ages  have  held  them- 
selves well  away  from  any  formal  discussion 
of  the  art  of  right  living  and  the  science  of  a 
skillful  carriage  of  one's  faculties.  Govern- 
ment, war  and  eloquence  have  indeed  received 
full  scientific  statement,  and  those  arts  called 
music  and  sculpture  have  obtained  abundant 
literary  treatment.  But,  for  some  reason,  no 
philosopher  has  ever  attempted  a  formal  treat- 
ise teaching  the  youth  how  to  carry  his  facul- 
ties so  as  to  avoid  injuring  his  fellows  and 
secure  for  them  peace,  happiness  and  success. 
Nevertheless,  the  art  of  handling  marble  is 
nothing  compared  to  the  art  of  handling  men. 
Skill  in  evoking  melody  from  the  harp  is  less  than 
nothing  compared  to  skill  in  allaying  discords 
in  the  soul  and  calling  out  its  noblest  impulses, 
its  most  enei'getic  forces. 

Nor  is  there  any  science  or  any  productive 
industry  whatsoever  that  is  at  all  comparable 
to  the  science  of  just,  smooth  and  kindly  living. 
For  the  business  of  life  is  not  the  use  and  con- 

259 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

trol  of  winds  and  rivers;  it  is  not  the  acquisi- 
tion of  skill  in  calling  out  the  secret  energies 
contained  in  the  soil  or  concealed  in  the  sky. 
The  business  of  life  is  the  mastery  of  the  art 
of  living  smoothly  and  justly  with  one's  fellows 
and  the  acquisition  of  skill  in  calling  out  the 
best  qualities  of  those  about  us.  Indeed,  the 
home  and  the  market  do  but  furnish  practice- 
ground  for  developing  expertness  in  carrying 
one's  faculties.  Sir  Arthur  Helps  first  coined 
the  expression,  "the  art  of  right  living,"  and 
society  can  never  be  sufficiently  grateful  to  this 
distinguished  scholar  for  reminding  us  that 
when  every  other  art  has  been  secured,  every 
other  science  achieved,  there  still  remains  for 
mastery  the  finest  of  all  the  fine  arts,  the 
science  of  a  right  carriage  of  one's  faculties 
midst  all  the  duties  and  relations  of  home  and 
school,  of  store  and  street. 

Searching  out  for  some  reason  why  scientists 
have  discussed  friendship,  reform,  or  patriot- 
ism, but  have  passed  by  the  science  of  right 
living,  we  shall  find  the  adequate  explanation  in 
the  fact  that  this  is  the  largest  subject  that  can 
possibly  be  handled.  It  concerns  the  right  car- 
riage of  the  whole  man,  the  handling  of  the  body, 
and  the  maintenance  of  perfect  health ;  the  con- 
trol of  the  temperament,  with  its  special  talent 
or  weakness ;  the  use  of  reason,  its  development 

260 


The  Science  of  Living  with  Men 

and  culture;  the  control  of  judgment,  with  the 
correction  of  its  aberrations;  it  involves  such 
a  mastery  of  the  emotions  as  men  have  over 
winds  and  rivers;  it  concerns  conscience  and 
conversation,  friendship  and  commerce,  and 
all  the  elements  affectional  and  social,  civic 
and  moral. 

For   man    stands,  as    it  were,  in    the    cen- 
ter    of      many     concentric     circles.       About 
himself,  as  a  center,  sweeps  the  home  circle; 
his     immediate    neighborhood     relations     de- 
scribe a  wider  circle;  his  business  career  de- 
scribes one  larger  still;  then  come  his  relations 
to  the  community  in  general,  while  beyond  the 
horizon  is  a  circle  of  influence  that  includes  the 
world  at  large.     When   the  tiny  spider  stand- 
ing at  the  center  of  its  wide-stretching  and  in- 
tricate web,  woven  for  destruction,  chances  to 
touch  any  thread  of  the  web,  immediately  that 
thread    vibrates  to  the  uttermost  extremity. 
And  man  stands  at  the  center  of  a  vast  web  of 
wide-reaching  influence,  woven  not  for  blight- 
ing, but  for  blessing,  and  every  one  of   these 
out-running  lines,  whether   related  to  friends 
near  by  or  to  citizens  afar  off,  thrills  and  vi- 
brates   with   secret    influences;   and    there   is 
no  creature  in  God's  universe  so  taxed  as  man, 
having  a  thousand  dangers  to  avoid,  and  fulfill- 
ing   ten    thousand   duties.      He   who    would 

261 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

adequately  discuss  the  science  of  right  living 
must  propose  a  method  that  will  enable  man  to 
carry  his  faculties  midst  all  the  conditions  of 
poverty  or  riches,  of  sickness  or  health,  of  the 
friendship  of  men  or  their  enmity. 

Discerning  the  largeness  of  this  theme, 
many  question  whether  right  living  can  be  re- 
duced to  a  science,  and,  if  so,  whether  it  ever 
can  be  acquired  as  an  art.  We  know  that 
there  is  a  science  of  government,  a  science  of 
wealth,  a  science  of  war,  and  mastery  in  each 
department  seems  possible.  Moreover,  long 
practice  has  lent  men  skill  in  the  arts.  Even 
Paganini  was  born  under  the  necessity  of 
obtaining  excellence  in  his  art  through  prac- 
tice. Titian  also  was  a  tireless  student  in 
color,  and  Macaulay  himself  toiled  hard  over 
his  alphabet.  Printers  tell  us  that  practice 
expels  stiffness  from  the  fingers  and  makes 
type-setting  an  automatic  process.  Daniel 
Webster  was  counted  the  greatest  orator  of 
his  time;  but  there  never  lived  a  man  who 
drilled  himself  in  solitude  more  scrupulously, 
and  his  excellence,  he  says,  was  the  fruit  of 
long  study. 

Henry  Clay  had  a  great  reputation  as  a 
speaker;  but  when  the  youth  had  through 
years  practiced  extemporaneous  speech  in  the 
cornfields  of  Kentucky,  he  went  on  to  train 

262 


The  Science  of  Living  with  Men 

himself  in  language,  in  thought,  in  posture,  ia 
gesture,  until  his  hand  could  wield  the  scepter, 
or  beckon  in  sweet  persuasion,  until  his  eye 
could  look  upon  his  enemies  and  pierce  them, 
or  beam  upon  his  friends  and  call  down  upon 
them  all  the  fruits  of  peace  and  success.  Nor 
has  there  been  one  great  artist,  one  great 
poet,  one  great  inventor,  one  great  mer- 
chant, nor  one  great  man  in  any  depart- 
ment of  life  whose  supremacy  does  not,  when 
examined,  stand  forth  as  the  fruit  of  long 
study  and  careful  training.  Men  are  born 
with  hands,  but  without  skill  for  using  them, 
Men  are  born  with  feet  and  faculties,  but  only 
by  practice  do  their  steps  run  swiftly  along 
those  beautiful  pathways  called  literature  or 
law  or  statesmanship.  Man's  success  in  mas- 
tering other  sciences  encoui*ages  within  us  the 
belief  that  it  is  possible  for  men  to  master  the 
science  of  getting  on  smoothly  and  justly  with 
their  fellow  men.  In  imjwrtance  this  knowl- 
edge exceeds  every  other  knowledge  whatso- 
ever. To  know  what  armor  to  put  on  against 
to-morrow's  conflicts ;  how  to  attain  the  ends  of 
commerce  and  ambition  by  using  men  as  in- 
struments; how  to  be  used  by  men,  and  how  to 
use  men,  not  by  injuring  them,  not  by  cheat- 
ing them,  not  by  marring  or  neglecting  them; 
but  how  through  men  to  advance  both  one's 

263 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

self  and  one's  fellows — this  is  life's  task.  For 
skill  in  getting  on  with  men  is  the  test  of  per- 
fect manhood. 

No  other  knowledge  is  comparable  to  this. 
It  is  something  to  know  how  to  sail  a  vast 
ship;  it  is  important  to  understand  the  work- 
ings of  a  Corliss  engine;  man  does  well  to 
aspire  to  the  mastery  of  iron  and  wood,  and 
the  use  of  cotton  and  wool;  most  praiseworthy 
the  ambition  to  master  arguments  and  ideas; 
but  it  is  a  thousand  times  more  important  to 
understand  men.  To  be  able  to  analyze  the 
underlying  motives;  to  attain  skill  in  rebuking 
the  worst  impulses  in  men,  and  skill  in  calling 
forth  their  best  qualities;  to  distinguish  be- 
tween selfishness  and  sincerity;  to  allay  strife 
and  promote  peace;  to  maintain  equanimity 
midst  all  the  swirl  of  passion ;  to  meet  those 
who  storm  with  perfect  calm;  to  meet  scowling 
men  with  firm  gentleness;  to  meet  the  harsh- 
ness of  pride  with  a  modest  bearing;  to  be  self- 
sufficing  midst  all  the  upheaval  and  selfishness 
of  life — this  is  to  be  a  follower  of  Christ,  and 
He  is  the  only  gentleman  our  world  has  ever 
seen.  Oh,  for  some  university  for  teaching 
the  art  of  right  living  !  Oh,  for  some  college 
teaching  the  science  of  attaining  the  personal 
ends  of  life  without  marring  one's  ideals  I  For 
life  has  only  one  fine  art — the  art  of  getting 
along  smoothly  v.ith  ourselves  and  our  fellows. 

264 


The  Science  of  Living  with  Men 

Let  us  confess  that  man  easily  masters 
every  other  art  and  science.  His  discoveries 
as  to  stars  and  stones  and  shrubs  provoke  ever 
fresh  surprise.  His  inventions,  who  can  num- 
ber? He  easily  masters  winds  and  rivers. 
He  takes  the  sting  out  of  the  thunderbolt  and 
makes  it  harmless.  Afterward  with  electric 
lamps  he  illumines  towns.  With  invisible  sun- 
beams he  paints  instantaneous  pictures  of 
faces,  palaces,  mountains,  and  landscapes. 
With  the  dark  X-i'ays  he  photographs  the 
bone  incased  in  flesh,  the  coins  contained  in 
the  purse.  With  his  magnet  the  scientist 
throws  a  rope  around  the  cathode  rays  and 
drags  them  whithersoever  he  will.  In  the 
field  the  inventor  uses  an  electric  hoe  to  kill 
the  germs  of  the  thistle  and  deadly  night- 
shade. Strange  that  he  cannot  invent  an  in- 
strument for  killing  the  germs  of  hatred  and 
envy  in  his  own  heartl  The  gardener  easily 
masters  the  art  of  cultivating  roses  and  vio- 
lets, but  breaks  down  in  trying  to  produce  in 
himself  those  beauteous  growths  called  love, 
truth,  justice — flowers,  these,  that  are  rooted 
in  heaven,  but  blossom  here  f)n  earth. 

An  expert  driver  will  hold  the  reins  over  six 
fiery  steeds,  or  even  eight,  but  he  descends 
from  his  coach  to  find  that  his  own  passions 
are  steeds  of  the  sun  that  run  away  with  him, 

265 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

bringing  wreckage  and  ruin.  Man  has  skill 
for  turning  poisons  into  medicines.  He  changes 
deadly  acids  into  balms,  but  he  has  no  skill  for 
taking  envy's  poisons  out  of  the  tongue,  or 
sheathincr  the  keen  sword  of  hati-ed.  As  to 
physical  nature,  man  seems  rapidly  approach- 
ing the  time  when  all  the  forces  of  land  and 
sea  and  sky  will  yield  themselves  as  willing 
and  obedient  servants  to  do  his  will.  But, 
having  made  himself  monarch  in  every  other 
realm,  man  breaks  down  uttei'ly  in  attempting 
the  task  of  living  peaceably  with  his  friends 
and  neighbors.  Sublime  in  his  integrity  and 
strength,  he  is  most  pitiable  in  the  way  he 
wrecks  his  own  happiness,  and  ruins  the  hap- 
piness of  others.  Pestilence  in  the  city,  tor- 
nado in  the  country,  the  fire  in  the  forest — 
these  are  but  feeble  types  of  man  as  a 
destroyer.  One  science  is  as  yet  unmastered 
by  man — the  science  of  right  living  and  the 
art  of  getting  along  smoothly  with  himself  and 
his  fellows. 

To-day  the  new  science  explains  the  difficulty 
of  right  living,  by  the  largeness  of  man's  en- 
dowment. There  are  few  failures  in  the  ani- 
mal or  vegetable  world.  Instinct  guides  the 
beast,  while  the  shrub  attains  its  end  by  auto- 
matic processes.  No  vine  was  ever  troubled 
to  decide  whether  it  should  produce  grapes  or 

266 


The  Science  of  Living  with  Men 

thorns.  No  ficr  tree  ever  had  to  go  to  school 
to  learn  how  to  avoid  bearing  thistles.  The 
humming  bird,  flying  from  shrub  to  shrub, 
hears  the  inner  voice  called  instinct.  These 
instincts  serve  as  guide  books.  The  animal 
creation  that  moves  through  the  air  or  water 
or  the  forests  experiences  but  little  difficulty 
in  finding  out  the  appointed  pathway.  But 
the  problem  of  rose,  lark  or  lion  is  very  sim- 
ple and  easy,  compared  with  the  problem  of 
man.  If  the  oak  must  needs  bear  acorns,  man 
is  like  a  vine  that  can  at  will  bring  forth  any 
one  of  a  hundred  fruits.  He  is  like  an  animal 
that  can  at  its  option  walk  or  fly,  swim  or  run. 
The  pathway  opened  before  the  brute  world  is 
narrow  and  its  task  therefore  is  very  simple, 
while  the  vast  number  of  pathways  possible  to 
man  often  embarrasses  his  judgment  and  some- 
times works  bewilderment. 

After  thousands  of  years  man  is  still  igno- 
rant whether  it  is  best  for  him  to  eat  flesh  or 
conflne  himself  only  to  fruit;  whether  the  juice 
of  the  grape  is  helpful  or  harmful;  whether  the 
finest  culture  comes  from  confining  one's  study 
to  a  single  language,  as  did  Socrates  and 
Shakespeare,  or  through  learning  many  lan- 
guages, as  did  Cicero  and  Milton;  whether  a 
monarchy  or  democracy  is  better  suited  for 
securing  the  people's  happiness  and  prosperity; 

267 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

whether  the  love  of  God  in  front  is  a  motive 
sufficient  to  pull  a  man  heavenward,  or  whether 
fear  and  fire  kindled  in  the  rear  will  not  lend 
greater  swiftness  to  his  footsteps.  It  is  won- 
derful how  many  problems  yet  remain  to  be 
solved. 

Nor  could  it  be  otherwise.  As  things  in- 
crease in  size  and  complexity  the  difficulty  of 
handling  them  increases.  It  is  easy  to  manage 
a  spinning-wheel,  but  difficult  to  handle  a 
Jacquard  loom  having  hundreds  of  delicate 
parts.  It  is  easy  to  use  a  boy's  whistle,  but 
hard  to  master  the  pipe  oi'gan  with  keys 
rising  bank  upon  bank.  Out  of  an  alphabet 
numbering  six  and  twenty  letters  all  the 
sciences  and  arts  can  be  fashioned;  but  the 
alphabet  of  man's  faculties  numbers  four  and 
forty  letters.  Who  shall  measure  the  divine 
literatures  possible  to  all  these  combinations 
of  thought,  feeling  and  aspiration? 

The  scientist  tells  us  that  all  of  the  instru- 
ments and  excellences  distributed  among  the 
animals  are  united  in  man. 

Man  has  the  beaver's  instinct  for  building, 
the  bee's  skill  for  hiving,  the  lion's  stroke  is  less 
than  man's  trip-hammer,  the  deer's  swift  flight 
is  slowness  to  man's  electric  speed,  the  eagle 
itself  cannot  outrun  his  flying  speech.  It  is  as  if 
all  the  excellences  of  the  whole  animal  creation 

268 


The  Science  of  Living  with  Men 

were  swept  together  and  compacted  in  man's 
tiny  body,  with  the  addition  of  new  gifts  and 
faculties;  but  this  concentration  of  all  the  gifts 
disti'ibuted  to  the  animal  world  in  man  means 
that  the  dangers  and  difficulties  that  are  dis- 
tributed over  all  the  rest  of  the  animal  crea- 
tion will  also  be  concenti-ated  upon  his  single 
person.  The  increase  of  his  treasure  carries 
with  it  the  increase  of  danger  and  difficulty. 
The  vastness  of  his  endowment  opens  up  the 
possibilities  of  innumerable  blunderings  and 
stumblings  and  wanderings  from  the  way.  By 
so  much,  therefoi'e,  as  he  is  above  the  bird  and 
the  beast,  by  that  much  does  the  task  of  car- 
rying aright  his  faculties  increase  in  magni- 
tude. 

Moreover,  smooth  livincr  with  men  is  difficult 
because  of  the  continual  conflict  with  evil.  In- 
tegrity can  never  be  good  friends  with  ini- 
quity, nor  liberty  with  tyranny,  nor  purity 
and  sweetness  with  filth  and  foulness.  There 
is  no  skill  by  which  John  can  ever  live  in  peace 
with  Herod.  Paul,  the  author  of  the  ode  to 
love,  was  always  at  war  with  Nero,  and  at  last 
had  his  head  shorn  off.  William  Tell  could  not 
get  along  smoothly  with  Gesler,  the  tyrant 
who  robbed  the  Swiss  of  their  rights.  When 
doves  learn  to  live  peaceably  with  hawks,  and 
lambs  learu  how  to  get  along   with  wolves, 

269 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

good  men  and  true  will  learn  how  to  live  in 
peace  with  vice  and  crime.  Wickedness  means 
warfare,  not  peace. 

Deviltry  cannot  be  overcome  by  diplomacy. 
Not  embassies,  but  regiments,  overcome  in- 
trenched oppression.  Men  of  integrity  and  re- 
finement can  have  but  one  attitude  toward  cor- 
ruption, drunkenness,  parasitism,  gilded  ini- 
quity— the  attitude  of  uncompromising  hostil- 
ity. Languorous,  emasculated  manhood  may 
silently  endure  great  wrongs  for  the  sake  of 
peace  and  quiet;  but  robust  manhood  never. 
One  of  the  dangers  of  our  age  and  nation  is  a 
tendency  to  conciliate  wrong  and  smooth  over 
wickedness  through  a  spurious  sense  of  charity. 
Genius  gilds  vice,  and  wit  and  brilliancy  trans- 
form evil  into  an  angel  of  light.  Only  expel 
dullness  and  make  evil  artistic,  and  it  is  con- 
doned; but  vice  attired  in  the  garb  of  a  queen 
is  as  truly  vice  as  when  clothed  in  rags  and  liv- 
ing in  squalor.  To  become  accustomed  to  evil, 
to  garnish  sin,  to  dim  and  deaden  sensibility 
to  what  is  right  and  beautiful,  is  to  extirpate 
manhood  and  become  a  mei'e  lump  of  flesh.  No 
man  has  a  right  to  be  good  friends  with  ini- 
quity. In  a  wicked  world  the  only  people  who 
ai'e  justified  in  peaceable  living  are  the  people 
in  graveyards.  In  an  age  and  land  like  ours 
only  men  of  mush  and  moonshine  can  be  friends 
with  everybody. 

270 


The  Science  of  Living  with  Men 

In  view  of  the  crime,  poverty  and  ignorance 
of  our  affc,  for  a  man  to  live  so  that  his  friends 
can  truthfully  write  on  his  tombstone,  "He 
never  had  an  enemy,"  is  for  him  to  be  eternally 
disgraced.  Such  a  man  should  never  be  guilty 
of  showing  his  face  in  heaven,  for  he  will  find 
that  the  angels,  at  least,  are  his  enemies. 
Looking  toward  integrity,  Christ  came  to  bring 
peace.  Looking  toward  iniquity,  Christ  came 
to  bring  the  sword.  Not  until  every  wrong 
has  been  turned  to  right,  not  until  every 
storm  has  been  stilled  into  peace,  not  until  the 
fatherhood  of  God  and  the  brotherhood  of  man 
have  been  incarnated  in  institutions,  will  con- 
flict cease  and  smooth  living  toward  all  men 
become  an  actuality. 

Ambition  and  the  clashing  of  interests  also 
mitigate  against  smooth  living.  Perhaps  no  age 
has  offci'od  more  powerful  stimulants  to  ambi- 
tion. The  field  is  open  to  all,  and  the  rewards 
are  great.  Therefore  Emerson's  phrase,  "  in- 
finite aspiration  and  infinitesimal  performance." 
Contentment  is  the  exception,  aspiration  is 
universal.  Inderd,  the  national  temptation  is 
ambition.  An  American  merchant  lives  more 
in  a  year  than  an  Oriental  in  eighty  years; 
more  in  an  hour  than  an  Indian  merchant  in 
twenty-four.  So  powerful  are  the  provoca- 
tives to  thinking  and  planning  that  cerebral 

271 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

excitement  is  well-nigh  continuous.  Moving 
forward,  the  youth  finds  every  pathway  open  and 
is  told  that  every  honor  and  position  are  possible 
achievements;  the  result  is  that  the  individual 
finds  himself  competing  with  all  the  i*est  of  the 
nation.  How  fierce  the  strife!  What  intense 
rivalries!  What  battles  between  opponents! 
What  conflicts  in  business! 

In  politics,  coveting  national  honors,  men 
spend  months  in  laying  out  a  campaign.  A 
vast  human  mechanism  is  organized  with  ram- 
ifications extending  through  the  nation.  As 
in  the  olden  times  in  the  court  of  King  Arthur, 
knights  entered  the  tournament  and  some 
Lancelot  clothed  in  steel  armor  rode  forth  to 
meet  some  Ivanhoe  in  mortal  combat;  so  it  is 
to-day  when  one  plumed  knight  meets  another 
in  the  political  arena — one  conquers,  and  one 
is  killed,  in  that  he  suffers  a  broken  heart. 

In  commerce  the  strife  is  not  less  fierce.  Men 
literally  stand  over  against  each  other  like 
gunboats,  carrying  deadly  missiles.  If  to- 
morrow conflict  and  strife  should  spring  up 
in  each  garden — if  the  rose  should  strike  its 
thorn  into  the  honeysuckle;  if  the  violet  from 
its  lowly  sphere  should  fling  mii'e  upon  the 
lily's  whiteness;  if  the  wheat  should  lift  up  its 
stalk  to  beat  down  the  barley;  if  the  robin 
should  become  jealous  of  the  lark's  sweet  voice, 

273 


The  Science  of  Living  with  Men 

and  the  oriole  organize  a  campaign  for  exter- 
minating the  thrush,  we  should  have  a  conflict 
in  nature  that  would  answer  to  the  strife  and 
warfare  in  society.  The  universality  of  the  con- 
flicts in  society  is  indicated  by  the  fact  that 
England's  national  symbol  is  not  a  dove,  but 
a  lion;  America's  is  an  eagle,  and  other  nations' 
are  the  leopard  and  the  boar.  In  national 
wars,  where  men  by  years  of  toil  have 
planted  vineyards,  reared  orchards,  builded 
houses  and  cities,  they  proceed  to  burn  up 
the  homes,  destroy  the  granaries,  cut  down 
the  vineyards  and  orchards;  and  these  pe- 
riodic public  quarrels  do  but  typify  the 
equally  destructive  private  feuds  and  troubles. 
Darwm  thought  that  men  have  descended 
from  animals,  and  some  men  have  so  literally 
descended.  Some  seem  to  have  come  through 
the  wolf;  some  have  the  fox's  cunning;  some 
have  the  lion's  cruelty,  and  some  are  as 
combative  as  bull-dogs.  Now,  it  is  not  easy 
to  maintain  one's  dignity  when  a  little  cur  nips 
your  heels  behind,  and  a  mastifif  threatens  you 
before.  And  some  men  seem  to  unite  both 
elements;  they  run  behind  you  and  nip,  they 
go  before  to  bark  and  threaten.  Under  such 
circumstances  it  is  not  easy  to  live  smoothly 
and  charitably.  It  is  easy  to  tame  lions,  but 
to  tame  men  is  not  easy.     It  is  easy  to  breast 

273 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

the  current  of  rivers,  but  to  stand  against  the 
full  force  of  public  opinion  is  hard.  But  midst 
all  life's  conflicts  and  clashings  this  task  is 
upon  us.  We  are  to  maintain  peace,  love  our 
enemies,  and  ultimately  master  the  art  of  right 
living  with  our  fellows. 

To  all  persons  interested  in  the  betterment  of 
society  comes  the  reflection  that  getting  on  with 
men  is  life's  abiding  aim  and  end.  Schools  can 
teach  no  other  knowledge  compai'able  to  this. 
It  is  important  to  train  the  child  in  music,  to 
drill  him  in  public  speech,  to  teach  him  how  to 
handle  the  horse  and  dog,  how  to  swim  and 
ride,  the  use  of  tools  and  engines,  the  nature 
and  production  of  wealth;  but  it  is  of  far 
greater  importance  that  youth  should  be  given 
a  knowledge  of  men,  and  become  a  skillful  stu- 
dent of  human  nature ;  to  learn  how  to  read  the 
face  as  an  open  book.  If  the  jurist  studies 
men  and  their  motives  to  find  out  the  truth;  if 
the  physician  studies  men  for  reasons  of  diag- 
nosis; if  the  merchant  studies  thinking  of  his 
profit,  and  the  politician  thinking  of  prefer- 
ment, the  citizen  must  understand  his  fellows 
in  the  interest  of  securing  their  happiness  and 
highest  welfare.  Incidentally,  it  is  important 
that  a  man  should  be  well  groomed  and  well 
kept;  should  be  educated  and  refined,  just  as 

274 


The  Science  of  Livin^r  with  Men 


i-i 


it  is  proper  that  the  pipes  of  an  organ  should 
be  decorated  on  the  outside. 

Nevertheless,  the  test  of  an  organ  is  the 
melody  and  harmony  within.  And  the  test  of 
manhood  is  not  outer  polish,  but  inner  skill  in 
carrying  his  faculties.  Man  is  only  a  rudi- 
mentary man  when  in  those  stages  he  blunders 
in  all  his  meetings  with  his  fellows,  and  can- 
not buy  nor  sell,  vote  nor  converse,  without 
harming,  marring,  depressing,  discouraging 
his  fellow  men.  In  our  age  many  books  have 
been  written  similar  to  Lyman  Abbott's  vol- 
ume called  "The  Study  of  Human  Nature," 
and  the  time  has  fully  come  when  each  child 
should  be  made  ready  for  life's  battle  before- 
hand, and  taught  how  to  armor  himself  against 
the  tournament.  When  the  schools  have 
trained  the  child  to  the  use  of  tools,  given  the 
tongue  skill  in  speaking  and  the  mind  skill  in 
thinking,  it  remains  to  teach  him  the  study  of 
men,  the  peculiarities  of  each  of  the  five  tem- 
peraments; the  nature  and  number  of  the  ani- 
mal impulses;  the  use  of  the  social  and  indus- 
trial impulses;  the  control  of  the  acquisitive 
and  the  spiritual  powers.  For  man's  carriage 
of  himself  in  the  presence  of  fire  and  forest  is 
the  least  of  his  duties.  That  which  will  tax 
him  and  distress,  and  perhaps  destroy  him, 
will  be  the  carriage  of  his  faculties  midst  all 

275 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

the  clash  and  conflict,  the  din  and  battle  of 
market  and  street.  And  midst  all  the  strife, 
this  is  to  be  his  ideal — to  bear  himself  toward 
his  enemies  and  toward  his  friends,  after  the 
pattern  of  Him  who  "makes  His  sun  to  shine 
upon  the  evil  and  the  good.  His  rain  to  fall 
upon  the  just  and  the  unjust." 

The  measure  of  manhood  is  the  degree  of 
skill  attained  in  the  art  of  carrying  one's  self  so 
as  to  pour  forth  upon  men  all  the  inspirations 
of  love  and  hope,  and  to  evoke  good  even  from 
the  meanest  and  wickedest  of  mankind.  Pass- 
ing through  life,  the  soul  is  to  be  a  happiness  pro- 
ducer and  a  joy  distributer.  Without  conscious 
thought  the  violets  pour  forth  perfume;  with- 
out volition  the  magnet  pulls  the  iron  filings; 
with  no  purpose  the  candle  pushes  its  beams  of 
light  into  the  darkness;  and  such  is  to  be  the 
weight  of  goodness  in  each  man,  that  its  mere 
presence  will  be  felt.  For  the  soul  carries 
power  to  bless  or  blight;  it  can  lift  up  its 
faculties  for  smiting,  as  an  enemy  lifts  the 
hammer  above  the  fragile  vase  or  delicate 
marble;  through  speech  man  can  fill  all  the  sky 
with  storms,  or  he  can  sweep  all  clouds  from 
the  horizon.  The  soul  can  take  the  sting  out  of 
man's  anger,  or  it  can  stir  up  anger;  it  can 
allay  strife  or  whet  the  keen  edge  of  hatred. 
The  thermometer  is  not  so  sensitive  to  heat, 

276 


The  Science  of  Living  with  Men 

the  barometer  to  \vei<;ht,  the  photographer's 
plate  to  light,  as  is  the  soul  to  the  ten  thou- 
sand influences  of  its  fellow  men. 

For  majesty  and  beauty  of  subtle  influence, 
nothing  is  comparable  to  the  soul.  Not  the 
sun  hanging  upon  the  horizon  has  such  power 
for  flower  and  fruitage  as  has  a  full-orbed 
Christian  heart,  rich  in  all  good  influences, 
throbbing  with  kindness  and  sympathy,  radi- 
ant as  an  ancel.  Great  is  man's  skill  in  hand- 
ling  engines  of  force  ;  marvelous  man's  control 
of  winds  and  rivers  ;  wondrous  the  mastery  of 
engines  and  ideas.  But  man  himself  is  greater 
than  the  tools  he  invents,  and  man  stands  forth 
clothed  with  power  to  control  and  influence  his 
fellows,  in  that  he  can  sweeten  their  bitterness, 
allay  their  conflicts,  bear  their  burdens,  sur- 
round them  with  the  atmosphere  of  hope 
and  sympathy.  Just  in  proportion  as  men 
have  capacity,  talent  and  genius,  arc  they  to 
be  guardians,  teachers,  and  nurses  for  men, 
bearing  themselves  tenderly  and  sympathet- 
ically toward  ignorance,  poverty  and  weak- 
ness. All  the  majesty  of  the  summer,  all 
the  glory  of  the  storms,  all  the  beauty  of  gal- 
leries, is  as  nothing  compared  to  the  majesty 
and  beauty  of  a  full-orbed  and  symmetrical 
manhood.  Should  there  be  in  every  village 
and  city  a  conspiracy  of  a  few  persons  toward 

277 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

this  refinement  and  culture,  this  beauty  and 
sweet  Christian  living,  the  presence  of  these 
Christ-formed  persons  would  transform  the 
community.  One  such  harvestf  ul  nature  carries 
power  to  civilize  an  entire  city.  We  no  more 
need  to  demonstrate  the  worth  of  the  sane, 
sound,  Christ-like  character  than  we  need  to 
prove  the  value  of  the  all-glorious  summei', 
when  it  fills  the  earth  with  fragrance,  the  air 
with  blossoms,  and  all  the  boughs  with  lus- 
cious fruit.  Each  Christian  youth  is  to  be  a 
man-maker  and  man-mender.  He  is  to  help  and 
not  hurt  men.  This  is  to  walk  in  love.  This 
is  to  overcome  evil  with  good.  This  is  to  be 
not  a  printed  but  a  living  gospel.  This  is  to 
be  a  master  of  the  art  of  right  living  and  a 
teacher  of  the  science  of  character  building. 


The  Revelators  of  Character 


"  The  soul,  like  the  sun,  hath  its  atmosphere. 
Some  men  move  through  life  as  a  band  of  music 
moves  down  the  street,  flinging  out  pleasure  on  every 
side  through  the  air,  to  every  one,  far  and  near,  that 
can  listen;  others  fill  the  air  with  harsh  clang  and 
clangor. " — Beecher. 

"  Truth  tyrannizes  over  the  unwilling  members  of 
the  body.  No  man  need  be  deceived  who  will  study 
the  changes  of  expression.  When  a  man  speaks  the 
truth  in  the  spirit  of  truth,  his  eye  is  as  clear  as  the 
heavens.  When  he  has  base  ends,  and  speaks  falsely, 
the  eye  is  muddy,  and  sometimes  asquint." — Emerson. 


XIII 

The  Revelators  of  Character 

T  N  ancient  times  personal  propei'ty  bore  the 
*  owner's  trademark.  All  flocks  and  herds 
fed  together  upon  the  common.  That  each 
might  know  his  own,  the  herdsman  slit  the 
ears  of  his  sheep,  or  bi'anded  his  oxen  with  the 
hot  iron.  Afterward,  as  wealth  increased, 
men  extended  the  marks  of  ownership.  The 
Emperor  stamped  his  image  into  the  silver 
coin.  The  Prince  wrought  his  initial  into  the 
palace  porch.  The  peasant  moulded  his  name 
into  the  bricks  of  his  cottage.  One  form  of 
property  was  slaves.  Athens  had  80,000  free 
citizens  and  400,000  bondmen.  As  these 
slaves  were  liable  to  run  away,  their  owners 
branded  them.  Sometimes  a  circle  was  burned 
into  the  palm,  or  a  cross  upon  the  foi'ehead; 
and  often  the  owner's  name  was  tattooed  upon 
the  slave's  shoulder.  One  of  the  gifts  of 
antiquity  to  our  modern  life  is  the  use  of  the 
trademark.  To-day  manufacturers  blow  their 
initials  in  the  glass;  they  mould  the  trade- 
mark in  steel,  and  weave  it  in  tapestries, 

281 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

Lying  in  his  dungeon,  everything  reminded 
Paul  of  these  marks  of  ownership.  His  chains 
bore  the  Emperor's  initials.  The  slaves  that 
brought  him  food  carried  Nero's  brand.  The 
very  bricks  of  his  dungeon  floor  were  stamped 
with  the  tyrant's  name.  But,  moving  out 
from  these  marks  of  servitude,  his  vision 
swept  a  wider  horizon.  He,  too,  was  prop- 
erty, A  freeman,  indeed,  was  he,  yet  he  was 
not  his  own.  Mind  and  heart  were  stamped 
with  God's  image  and  superscription.  No  hot 
iron  had  mutilated  him,  but  ti-ouble  had 
wrought  refinement,  and  love  divine  had  left 
its  indelible  stamp.  Gone  indeed  the  fresh, 
bright  beauty  that  was  his  when  he  sat  a  boy 
at  Gamaliel's  feet !  Since  the  day  when  the 
mob  in  Lystra  had  lifted  stones  upon  him; 
since  the  time  of  his  scourging  at  Philippi,  he 
had  carried  the  marks  of  martyrdom.  Suffer- 
ing had  plowed  deep  furrows  in  his  face.  But 
honorable  were  all  his  scars.  They  bore  wit- 
ness to  his  conquest  over  ease  and  self-indul- 
gence. Dear  to  him  these  marks — they  bound 
him  to  his  Master,  the  Lord  Jesus.  They 
filled  him  with  high  hopes,  for  the  same  marks 
that  made  him  a  bond  slave  to  God  and  immor- 
tality freed  him  from  earth  and  earthly  things. 
Musing,  in  kingly  mood,  the  scarred  hero  ex- 
claimed:     "Let  not  hunger  nor  cold,  let  not 

282 


The  Revelators  of  Character 

the  scourge  nor  the  tyrant's  threat  trouble 
me,  for  I  bear  about  in  my  body  the  marks  of 
the  Lord  Jesus." 

Now,  God  hath  ordained  that,  like  Paul's, 
every  human  body  shall  register  personal 
history,  publishing  a  man's  deeds,  and  pro- 
claiming his  allei^iance  to  ^ood  or  evil.  The 
human  face  and  form  are  clothed  with  dignity 
in  that  the  fleshly  pages  of  to-day  show  forth 
tlie  soul's  deeds  of  yesterday.  Experience 
teaches  us  that  occupation  affects  the  body. 
Calloused  hands  betray  the  artisan.  The 
gi'imy  face  proclaims  the  collier.  He  whose 
garments  exhale  sweet  odors  needs  not  tell  us 
that  he  has  lingered  long  in  the  fragrant  gar- 
den. But  the  face  and  form  are  equally  sensi- 
tive to  the  s])irit's  finer  workings.  Mental 
brightness  makes  facial  illumination.  Moral 
obliquity  dulls  and  deadens  the  features. 
There  never  was  a  handsome  idiot.  There 
never  can  be  a  beautiful  fool.  But  sweetness 
and  wisdom  will  glorify  the  plainest  face. 

Physicians  tell  us  that  no  intensity  of  disease 
avails  for  expelling  dignity  and  majesty 
from  a  good  man's  countenance,  nor  can  phys- 
ical suifering  destroy  the  sweetness  and 
purity  of  a  noble  woman's.  Tt  is  said  that 
after  his  forty  days  in  the  mount  Moses'  face 
shone.     All  the  great  artists  paint  St.  Cecilia 

2S3 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

with  face  uplifted,  listening  to  celestial  music, 
and  all  glowing  with  light,  as  though  sun- 
beams fallino-  from  above  had  transfigured  the 
face  of  the  sweet  singer.  Those  who  beheld 
Daniel  Webster  during  his  delivery  of  his  ora- 
tion on  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  say  that  the  states- 
man's face  made  them  think  of  a  transparent 
bronze  statue  brilliantly  lighted  from  within, 
with  the  luminosity  shining  out  through  the 
countenance. 

But  the  eyes  are  the  soul's  chiefest  reve- 
lators.  Tennyson  spoke  of  King  Arthur's 
eyes  as  "  pools  of  purest  love."  As  there 
is  sediment  in  the  bottom  of  a  glass  of  impure 
water,  so  there  is  mud  in  the  bottom  of  a  bad 
man's  eye.  Thus,  in  sti'ange  ways,  the  body 
tells  the  story  of  the  soul.  Health  hangs  its 
signals  out  in  rosy  cheeks;  disease  and  death 
foretell  their  story  in  the  hectic  flush,  even  as 
reddening;  autumn  leaves  foretell  the  winter's 
heavy  frost;  anxious  lines  upon  the  mother's 
face  beti'ay  her  secret  bui"dens;  the  scholar's 
pallor  is  the  revelation  of  his  life,  while  the 
closely  knitted  forehead  of  the  merchant  inter- 
prets the  vexing  problems  he  must  solve. 

Thinking  of  the  pathetic  sadness  of  Lincoln's 
face,  all  seamed  as  it  was  and  furrowed  with 
care  and  anxiety.  Secretary  Stanton  said  that 
the  President's  face  was  a  living  page,  upon 

284 


The  Revelators  of  Character 

which  the  full  history  of  the  nation's  battles 
and  victories  was  written.  We  are  told  that 
when  the  Waldenses  could  no  longer  bear 
the  ghastly  cruelty  of  the  inquisitors,  they  fied 
to  the  mountain  fastnesses.  There,  worn  out 
by  suffering,  the  brave  leader  was  stricken  by 
death.  Coming  forth  from  their  hiding-places, 
the  fugitives  gathered  around  the  hero's  bier. 
Stooping,  one  lifted  the  hair  from  the  forehead 
of  the  dead  youth  and  said:  "This  boy's  hair, 
grown  thin  and  white  through  heroic  toil,  wit- 
nesseth  his  heroism.  These,  the  marks  of  his 
fidelity."  Thus,  for  those  who  have  skill  to 
read  the  writing,  every  gi'eat  man's  face  is 
written  all  over  with  the  literature  of  charac- 
ter. His  body  condenses  his  entire  history, 
just  as  the  Declaration  of  Independence  is  con- 
densed into  the  limits  of  a  tin}'  silver  coin. 

Calm  majesty  is  in  the  face  of  Washington; 
pathetic  patience  and  divine  dignity  in  that  of 
Lincoln;  unyielding  granite  is  in  John  Brown's 
face,  though  sympathy  hath  tempered  hardness 
into  softness;  intellect  is  in  Newton's;  pui*e  im- 
agination is  in  Keats'  and  in  Milton's;  heroic 
substance  is  in  the  face  of  Cromwell  and  in 
that  of  Lutlier;  pathetic  sorrow  is  found  in 
Dante's  eyes;  conscience  and  love  shine  in  the 
face  of  F^'nelon.  Verily,  the  body  is  the  soul's 
interpreter!     Like  Paul,  each  man  bears  about 

285 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

in  his  body  the  marks,  either  of  ignorance  and 
sin,  of  fear  and  remorse,  or  the  marks  of  heroism 
and  virtue,  of  love  and  integrity.  To  the  gospel 
of  the  page  let  us  add  the  gospel  of  the  face. 

But  let  none  count  it  a  strange  thing  that 
the  soul  within  I'egisters  its  experiences  in  the 
body  without.  God  hates  secrecy  and  loves 
openness.  He  hath  ordained  that  nature  and 
man  shall  publish  their  secret  lives.  Each 
seed  and  germ  hath  an  instinctive  tendency 
toward  self-revelation.  Every  rosebud  aches 
with  a  desire  to  unroll  its  petals  and  exhibit 
its  scarlet  secret.  Not  a  single  piece  of  coal 
but  will  whisper  to  the  microscope  the  full 
story  of  that  far-off  scene  when  boughs  and 
buds  and  odorous  blossoms  were  pressed  to- 
gether ita  a  single  piece  of  shining  crystal. 
The  great  stone  slabs  with  the  bird's  track  set 
into  the  I'ock  picture  forth  for  us  the  winged 
creatures  of  the  olden  time.  When  travelei's 
through  the  Rocky  Mountains  behold  the  flam- 
in  p-  advertisements  written  on  the  rocks,  the 
reflection  comes  to  all  that  nature  also  uses  the 
rock  pages  for  keeping  her  private  memoranda 
of  all  those  events  connected  with  her  history 
of  fire  and  flood  and  glacier.  When  we  speak 
of  a  scientific  discovery,  we  mean  that  some 
keen-eyed  thinker  has  come  upon  a  page  of 
nature's  diary  and  copied  it  for   his  printer, 

286 


The  Revelators  of  Character 

The  sea  shells  lying  upon  the  crest  of  the  high 
hills  make  one  chapter  in  the  story  of  that  age 
when  the  ocean's  waves  broke  against  the 
peaks  of  the  high  mountains. 

Journeying  in  his  summer  vacation  into  the 
region  about  Hudson  Bay,  the  traveler  brings 
back  pieces  of  coal  containing  tropic  growths. 
These  carbon  notebooks  of  natui'e  tell  us  of  a 
time  when   the   regions  of  ice  and  snow  were 
covered  with   tropical  fruits  and  flowers,  and 
suggest  some  accident  that  caused  our  earth 
to  tip  and  assume  a  new  angle  toward  the  sun. 
Indeed,  our  earth  bears  about  in   the  body  the 
marks  of  its  entire  history,  so  that  the  scien- 
tist is  able  to  tell  with  wondrous  accuracy  the 
events  of  a  hundred  thousand  years   ago.      Al- 
ready the  Roentgen  ray  foretells  the  time  when 
"nothing  shall  be  covered  that  shall  not  be  re- 
vealed,  neither  hid  that  shall  not  be  known; 
when  that  which  was   done  in  secret  shall  be 
proclaimed   from    the   housetops."      Professor 
Babbage,  the  mathematician,  has  said  that  the 
atmosphere  itself  is  becoming  one  vast  phono- 
graph upon  whose  sensitive  cylinder  shall  be 
written   all    that   man    hath    said,    or   woman 
whispered.     Not  a  word  of  injustice  spoken, 
not  a  cry  of  agony  uttered,  not  an  argument 
for  liberty  urged,  but  it  is   registered   indeli- 
bly, so  that  with  a  higher  mathematics  and  a 

287 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

keener  sight  and  sense,  the  future  scientist 
may  trace  each  particle  of  air  set  in  motion 
with  as  much  precisioif  as  an  astronomer  traces 
the  pathway  of  a  moving  star  or  a  distant 
planet. 

Recently  the  story  has  been  told  of  a  burglar 
who  accidently  discharged  a  magnesium  light 
connected  with  a  kodak  on  the  shelf.  The 
hour  was  midnight  and  everyone  in  the  house 
was  asleep.  But  the  kodak  was  awake  and  at 
work.  Frightened  by  the  sudden  light,  the 
thief  fled,  leaving  his  spoil  behind.  But  he 
also  left  his  face.  The  next  day  in  the  court 
the  kodak  convicted  him.  Thus  the  new 
science  is  causing  each  man  to  stand  in  the 
center  of  an  awful  photographic  and  telegraphic 
system  which  makes  an  indelible  record  of 
man's  words  and  deeds.  No  breath  is  so  faint 
that  it  can  escape  recording  itself;  no  whisper 
so  low,  no  plan  so  secret,  no  deed  of  evil  so 
dark  and  silent.  Memory  may  forget — but 
nature  never.  Upon  the  pages  of  the  physical 
universe  the  story  of  every  human  life  is  per- 
petually before  the  judge  of  all  the  earth. 

It  is  deeply  intei^esting  to  see  how  each  liv- 
ing thing  bears  about  in  its  body  the  story  of 
its  degradation,  or  the  history  of  its  rise  and 
exaltation.  Even  in  things  that  creep  and 
crawl,  the  whole  life-history  is  swept  together 

288 


The  Revelators  of  Character 

in  the  animal  body.  The  ship  barnacle  began 
its  career  with  two  splendid  eyes.  But  it  used 
its  vision  to  find  an  easy  place  upon  the  side  of 
pier  or  ship.  Giving  up  locomotion,  it  grew 
sleek  and  fat,  and  finally  its  big  eyes  grew  dull 
through  misuse,  and  now  they  are  dead. 
When  the  squirrels  left  the  forests  in  the  west 
and  journeyed  out  upon  the  open  prairies,  they 
began  to  burrow  in  the  ground.  Finally,  for 
want  of  use,  they  lost  all  power  of  climbing. 
Among  the  birds  the  lazy  cuckoo  began  by 
stealinrr  the  nest  another  bird  had  built. 
But  it  j)aid  a  grievous  price  for  its  theft,  for 
now  when  the  cuckoo  is  confined  by  man  and 
wants  a  nest  of  its  own  it  toils  aimlessly,  and 
has  lost  all  power  to  make  for  itself  a  soft, 
warm  nesting-place. 

In  northern  climes  the  mistletoe  has  a  heal- 
thy normal  taproot.  But  in  our  rich  soil  it 
became  too  dainty  for  dirt,  and  chose  the  life 
of  a  parasite.  So  the  little  seed  struck  its 
outer  roots  into  the  bark  of  the  oak,  and  lazily 
sucked  away  the  tree's  rich  sap.  Soon  luxury 
and  living  upon  another's  life  ruined  the  mis- 
tletoe, just  as  the  generation  of  young  Bomans 
was  ruined  by  the  father's  wealth;  just  as  an 
active  and  healthy  boy  is  wrecked  when  he  be- 
gins to  be  a  sluggard  and'  goes  to  the  aunt — 
some  rich  aunt — and  waits  f^  her  to  die.   And 

289 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

since  all  the  lower  creatures  bear  about  in  the 
body  the  marks  of  the  full  life-history,  it  seems 
natural  to  expect  that  man's  body,  through  its 
health  and  beauty,  or  weakness  and  decay, 
should  tell  the  story  of  how  the  soul  within 
has  lived  and  wrought,  A  short  journey 
through  our  streets  will  prove  to  us  that  in- 
iquity sets  its  mark  in  the  face.  Dickens  de- 
scribes Fagin  as  a  man  who  was  solid  bestiality 
and  villainy  done  up  in  bone  and  tissue.  Each 
feature  was  as  eloquent  of  rascality  as  an  ape's 
of  idiocy.  Contrariwise,  in  the  kingdom  of 
morals  there  are  men  who  seem  solid  goodness, 
kindness,  and  virtue,  bound  together  with 
fleshly  bands.  Even  distant  ancestors  leave 
their  marks  in  man's  body. 

It  has  recently  been  discovered  that  the 
handwriting  of  one  of  our  presidents  was 
almost  exactly  that  in  his  grandfather's  will. 
The  Boui'bon  family  has  always  been  distin- 
guished by  the  aquiline  nose.  One  of  the 
oldest  New  England  families  is  known  for  its 
singular  length  and  strength  of  arm.  Beauty 
is  a  mark  in  one  family,  and  size  is  a  mark  in 
the  other.  Because  man  is  made  in  the  image 
of  God  we  naturally  look  for  those  divine  trade- 
marks in  man's  body  called  comeliness  and 
complexion,  just  as  we  look  for  the  artist's 
name  on  the  corner  of  his  picture,  or  the  sculp- 

290 


The  Revclators  of  Character 

tor's  name  on  the  ppdestal  of  his  statue.  By 
so  much  as  a  babe's  cheek  is  higher  than  the 
blushing  peach,  it  ought  to  be  more  beautiful. 
And  because  the  trees  of  the  forest  go  forward 
toward  October  and  death  arrayed  in  their 
brightest  robes,  we  have  a  right  to  expect 
that  man  in  his  old  age  also  will  reach 
the  highest  beauty  and  perfection. 

But  not  so.  Man's  history  has  been  a  his- 
tory of  selfishness  and  sin,  and  his 
body  bears  the  marks  thereof  His  features 
are  "seamed  by  sickness,  dimmed  by  sensu- 
ality, convulsed  by  passion,  pinched  by  poverty, 
shadowed  by  sorrow,  branded  by  remorse." 
Men's  bodies  are  consumed  by  sloth,  broken 
down  by  labor,  tortured  by  disease,  dishonored 
by  foul  uses,  until  beholding  the  "marks"  of 
character  in  the  natural  face  in  a  glass  multi- 
tudes would  fain  forget  what  manner  of  men 
they  are.  For  the  human  face  is  a  canvas, 
and  nature's  writing  goes  ever  on.  But  as  the 
wrong  act  or  foul  deed  sets  its  seal  of  distor- 
tion on  the  features,  so  the  right  act  or  true 
thought  sets  its  stamp  of  beauty.  There  is  no 
cosmetic  for  homely  folks  like  character.  Even 
the  plainest  face  becomes  beautiful  in  noble  and 
radiant  moods.  He  who  ever  beholds  the  vision 
of  Christ's  face  will  at  last  so  take  on  the  like- 

291 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

ness  of  his  Master  as  to  bear  about  in  his  body- 
also  "the  marks  of  the  Lord  Jesus." 

Consider  the  habits  and  the  unconscious  de- 
sires as  marks  of  character.  When  Arnold  of 
Rugby  took  his  boys  for  a  holiday  to  London 
he  found  the  rcvelators  of  personality  in  the 
objects  which  they  first  visited.  The  youth 
who  had  spent  each  spare  moment  in  sketch- 
ing made  his  way  immediately  to  the  gallery. 
Young  vStaniey.  even  then  brooding  upon 
moral  themes,  turned  his  face  toward  the  ab- 
bey, whose  fame  he  was  to  augment.  The 
eager  aspirant  for  political  honors  rushed 
toward  the  houses  of  Parliament.  Thus  also 
the  students  of  physiognomy  try  to  catch  the 
subject  off  his  guard,  when  the  unconscious 
and  habitual  lines  appear  in  the  face.  The 
kind  of  books  one  loves  to  read,  the  amuse- 
ments one  seeks,  the  friends  he  chooses,  are 
all  revelators.  Recently  an  English  traveler 
published  a  volume  of  impressions  concern- 
ing America.  Finding  little  to  praise,  the 
traveler  finds  much  to  criticise  and  blame. 
During  his  two  or  three  weeks'  sojourn  in 
our  cities,  he  tells  us  that  he  found  sights 
and  scenes  that  would  shame  Sodom  and 
Gomorrah,  and  bemoans  the  fact  that  in  this 
young,    fi'esh    land    things    should    be  as  bad 

292 


The  Revelators  of  Character 

as  in  London  and  Paris,  whither  the  scum  and 
wrecks  of  society  have  drifted. 

What  a  revelation!  not  of  the  city,  but  of 
the  critic  himself.  But  because  he  was  inter- 
ested in  other  things,  the  editor  of  an  English 
Review  found  here  material  for  a  fruitful  dis- 
cussion of  "The  Higher  Life  of  American 
Cities."  Multitudes  have  sojourned  here  dur- 
ing a  score  of  years  and  have  not  so  much  as 
heard  of  orgies  and  excesses.  Yet  if  the  bee  is 
blind  to  all  save  flowers;  if  the  worm  cares 
only  for  rotten  wood;  if  the  mole  bores  down- 
ward, so  there  are  natures  that  cannot  rest 
until  thoy  have  ferreted  out  that  which  they 
lovingly  seek  and  eagerly  desire  to  find. 
Habits  also  reveal  personality.  First  the 
river  digs  the  channel,  then  the  channel  con- 
trols the  river,  and  when  the  faculties,  by  rep- 
etition, have  formed  habits,  those  habits  be- 
come grooves  and  channels  for  controllins:  the 
faculties.  What  grievous  marks  were  in  poor 
Coleridge !  Once  this  scholar  spent  a  fort- 
night upon  an  annual  address.  But  while  the 
audience  was  assembling  Coleridge  left  his 
friends  and  stepped  out  the  rear  door  of  the 
hall  to  go  in  search  of  his  favorite  drug,  leav- 
ing his  audience  to  master  its  disappointment 
as  best  it  could. 

293 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

And  here  is  Robert  Burns,  bearing  about  in 
his  body  also  the  marks  of  his  ownership. 
For  this  matchless  genius  was  wrecked  and 
ruined  not  by  the  wiles  of  him  of  the  cloven 
foot,  but  by  temptations  that  have  been  called 
"godlike."  This  glorious  youth  was  not  be- 
guiled from  the  path  by  a  desire  to  be  a  cold 
and  calculating  villain  in  his  treatment  of 
Jean,  or  to  die  of  drink  in  his  prime,  or  to 
leave  his  widow  and  orphans  in  poverty. 
Burns  loved  upward,  loved  noble  things  and 
beautiful;  and  his  very  love  of  beauty  and 
grace,  his  love  of  good  company,  of  wit, 
laughter  and  song,  and  all  the  stormy  splen- 
dors of  youth  at  springtide — these  are  the 
snares  and  wiles  that  caught  his  beautiful 
genius  and  led  it  away  captive. 

To-day,  for  him  who  hath  eyes  to  see,  the  marks 
of  a  like  immoderation  are  upon  our  generation 
also.  What  a  revelation  of  the  taste  of  our 
age  is  found  in  the  new  love  of  highly  spiced 
literature!  All  history  holds  no  nobler  litera- 
ture than  that  in  the  English  tongue.  Our 
poetry  furnishes  nectar  for  angels!  Our  phi- 
losophies bread  for  giants!  The  essayists 
furnish  food  for  the  gods!  Nevertheless,  a 
multitude  have  turned  fi-om  this  glorious 
feast  to  the  highly  spiced  literature  of  fiction. 

A  traveler  tells  of  watching  bees  linger  so 

294 


The  Revelators  of  Character 

long  beside  the  vats  of  the  distillery  that  they 
became  maudlin.  And  the  love  of  high  stimu- 
lants in  literature  is  one  of  the  character  marks 
of  our  generation.  Excess  threatens  our  peo- 
ple. Men  are  anxious  to  be  scholars  and  hurry 
along  a  ])athway  that  leads  straight  to  the 
grave.  Men  are  anxious  to  find  pleasure,  but 
they  find  the  flowers  were  grown  in  the  church- 
yard. Men  are  feverishly  anxious  for  wealth, 
and,  coining  all  time  and  strength  into  gold, 
they  find  they  have  no  health  with  which  to  en- 
joy the  gathered  sweetness.  Haste  in  cooking 
the  dinner  has  destroyed  the  appetite.  We 
are  told  that  ' '  moderation  and  poise  are  the 
secrets  of  all  successful  art,"  as  they  are  of  all 
successful  life.  Give  the  rein  to  appetite  and 
passion,  and  satiety,  disenchantment,  and  the 
grave  quickly  come.  Health,  happiness,  and 
character  are  through  restraint.  Thus  truly, 
habit  and  trait  in  the  individual  or  the  genera- 
tion become  a  mark  in  the  body  that  is  the 
revelator  of  character. 

What  men  call  character  to-day  is  really 
another  one  of  the  marks  of  the  Lord  Jesus. 
Now  and  then  a  man  appears  in  society  from 
whose  very  presence  there  emanates  an  at- 
mosphere and  a  sense  of  power — power  that 
seizes  upon  the  imagination  of  the  beholder 
and  holds  him  breathless,  even  as  one  stands 

295 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

breathless  when  overtaken  by  some  sense 
in  nature  of  overmastering  sublimity.  These 
strangely  gifted  men  have  appeared  only  at 
intervals  of  centuries.  If  an  ordinary  man 
is  attacked  in  a  lonely  spot  by  armed  foot- 
pads, he  finds  himself  helpless.  But  Julius 
Caesar  carried  such  reserves  that,  bound  and 
miaided,  he  could  deliver  himself  from  an 
entire  band  of  I'obbers.  Surprised  one  day 
by  a  company  of  bandits,  he  was  knocked 
down,  robbed,  and  bound.  But  when  he  re- 
covered consciousness,  he  argued  the  ropes  off 
his  wrists,  talked  his  purse  and  rings  out  of 
the  robbers'  pockets  back  into  his,  bound  his 
enemies — not  with  cords,  but  with  linked 
words — led  them  back  to  the  city  instead  of 
away  from  it,  and  landed  the  waylayers  in 
jail. 

Similarly,  history  tells  us  of  half  a  score  of 
men  during  the  past  two  thousand  years  who 
have  carried  this  same  all-commanding  atmos- 
phere. For  over  a  century  students  of  oratory 
have  been  endeavoring  to  explain  the  eloquence 
of  Whitefield.  Such  power  had  this  man  that 
the  statesmen  and  philosophers  of  London  used 
to  leave  the  metropolis  on  Saturday  and  jour- 
ney far  into  the  country  to  join  the  crowds, 
often  numbering  twenty  thousand  people,  that 
followed  this  pi-eacher  from  village   to  village. 

296 


The  Revelators  of  Character 

David  Huiuo,  the  skeptic,  explained  Whitelield's 
charm  by  saying  that  the  preacher  spake  to 
his  audience  with  the  same  passionate  abandon 
with  which  an  ardent  lover  speaks  to  his  sweet- 
heart when  he  pleads  for  her  hand.  But  Ben- 
jamin Franklin  tells  us  that  the  charm  in 
Whitefield's  speech  was  not  his  musical  voice, 
not  his  stream  of  thouofht  runninjj  clear  as 
crystal,  not  his  sudden  electric  outbursts,  when 
the  great  man  seemed  on  fire;  the  something 
that  men  have  tried  in  vain  to  analyze,  was 
his  character — goodness  and  sincerity  glowing 
and  throbbing  in  and  through  words,  just  as 
the  electric  current  glows  and  throbs  throuo-h 
the  connecting  wires.  Another  such  man,  but 
lesser,  was  Lamartine.  During  the  French 
Revolution,  when  the  mob  poured  through  the 
streets,  sweeping  before  it  the  soldiers  who 
opposed  its  progress,  Lamartine  made  his 
way  to  the  middle  of  the  street  and  stood  be- 
fore the  brutal  leaders.  So  powerful  was  the 
influence  of  the  good  man's  character,  that, 
when  the  leader  said,  ''Soldiers,  we  are  in  the 
presence  of  a  man  who  represents  seventy  years 
of  noble  living,"  the  rude  mob  uncovered. 
Afterward,  when  the  insurgents  laid  down  their 
ai'ms,  it  was  as  a  tribute  to  the  superiority  of 
character  to  guns  and  brute  force. 

297 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

But  when  we  read  of  these  all-commanding 
natures,  we  are  not  to  think  that  these  in- 
spirational beings  had  their  influence  through 
some  strange  magnetic  power,  nor  that  they 
cast  a  spell  over  people  like  unto  the  spell 
that  the  cat  casts  over  the  mouse  with  which 
it  plays.  Their  might  has,  for  the  most  part, 
been  the  might  of  goodness.  The  chief  mark 
that  Paul  and  Wesley  and  Wilberforce,  and 
all  the  great  have  carried  about  in  the  body 
has  been  the  mark  of  character.  What  beauty 
is  to  the  statue;  what  ripeness  is  to  the  fruit; 
what  sti'ength  is  to  the  body;  what  wisdom  is 
to  the  reason — that  character  is  to  the  soul! 

Great  is  the  power  of  bonds  and  gold! 
Mighty  the  influence  of  customs  and  institu- 
tions! But  the  greatest  force  that  can  exist 
in  society  is  the  presence  and  power  of  good 
men.  As  rain  and  soil  and  sunbeams  are 
only  raw  materials,  to  be  brought  together 
and  condensed  into  the  ripe  fruit,  so  tools, 
knowledge,  goods,  are  but  raw  materials,  to 
be  wrought  up  into  the  fine  substance  of 
character.  Happy  all  who  have  subordinated 
the  animal  impulses  and  the  industrial  facul- 
ties to  the  moral  sentiments.  Thrice  happy 
they  who  have  carried  all  their  faculties  up 
unto  harmony  and  symmetry.  All  such,  like 
Paul,  bear  about  in  the  body  the  marks  of  the 

Lord  Jesus. 

298 


Making  the  Most  of  One's  Self 


"  Till  we  all  come  unto  the  perfect  man." — St. 
Paul. 

"  Every  soul  is  a  seed.  It  does  not  yet  appear  what 
it  shall  be.  "—ii. 

"  '  Very  early,'  said  Margaret  Fuller,  '  I  perceived 
that  the  object  of  life  is  to  grow.'  She  herself  was  a 
remarkable  instance  of  the  power  of  the  human  Vjeing 
to  go  forward  and  upward.  Of  her  it  might  be  said, 
as  Goethe  said  of  Schiller:  '  If  I  did  not  see  him  for 
a  fortnight,  I  was  astonished  to  find  what  progress 
he  had  made  in  the  interim.'  " — James  Freeman 
Clarke. 

"  Persons  who  are  to  transform  the  world  must  be 
themselves  transformed.  Life  must  be  full  of  in- 
spiration. If  education  is  valuable,  the  age  must 
double  it ;  if  art  is  sweet  and  high,  we  must  double 
its  richness  and  might ;  if  philanthropy  is  divine,  we 
must  double  its  quantity  and  tenderness ;  if  religion 
is  valuable,  double  its  truths  and  hasten  with  it  unto 
more  firesides ;  if  man's  life  is  great,  let  him  count 
more  precious  all  its  summers  and  winters.  The 
one  duty  of  life  is,  lessen  every  vice  and  enlarge 
every  virtue." — David  Swiiig. 


XIV 

Making  the  Most  of  One's  Self 

T^WO  great  principles  run  through  all  society. 
^  First  comes  the  principle  of  self-care  and 
self-love.  Each  man  is  given  chai'ge  of  his  own 
body  and  life.  By  foresight  he  is  to  guard 
against  danger.  By  self-defense  he  is  to  ward 
off  attack.  By  fulfilling  the  instincts  for  food, 
for  work  and  rest  he  is  to  maintain  the  integrity 
of  his  being.  Upon  each  individual  rests  the 
solemn  obligation  to  make  the  most  possible  of 
himself,  and  to  stortf lip  resources  of  knowledge 
and  virtue,  of  friendship  and  heart  treasure. 
But  when  a  man  has  treated  his  reason  as  a 
granary  and  stored  it  with  food,  his  memory 
as  a  gallerj'^,  and  filled  it  with  pictures  of  a 
beautiful  past,  his  reason  and  will  as  armories, 
and  stored  them  with  weapons  against  the  day 
of  battle,  then  a  second  principle  asserts  itself. 
Responsible  for  his  own  growth  and  happiness, 
man  is  made  equally  responsible  for  the  happiness 
and  welfare  of  those  about  him.  By  so  much 
as  he  has  secured  his  own  personal  enrichment, 
by  that  much  he  is  bound  to  secure  the  enrich- 

301 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

ment  and  social  advantage  of  his  fellows.  To  love 
one's  self  at  the  expense  of  one's  fellows  is  for 
selfness  to  become  malignancy.  To  love  one's 
neighbors  more  than  one's  self  is  foolishness 
and  self-destruction. 

Whatever  of  value  the  individual  has, 
comes  from  fidelity  to  the  first  of  these  princi- 
ples. Self-love  woi'king  toward  reason  makes 
a  man  a  scholar;  woi'king  toward  his  imagina- 
tion, makes  him  artist  and  inventor;  working 
toward  his  gift  of  speech,  makes  him  an  orator; 
woi'king  with  pride  makes  him  self-reliant  and 
self-sufficing.  And  when  the  principle  of  love 
for  others  asserts  itself,  this  love,  working 
toward  poverty,  transforms  man  into  a  philan- 
thropist; working  toward  iniquity,  makes  man 
a  reformer;  working  toward  freedom,  makes 
him  a  patriot  and  a  hero ;  working  toward  God, 
makes  him  a  saint  and  a  seer. 

The  new  astronomy  makes  much  of  the 
three  cosmic  laws.  Our  earth,  by  a  form 
of  self-love  called  molecular  attraction,  ceases 
to  be  scattered  dust,  and  takes  on  the 
shape  of  a  rich  and  beautiful  planet.  But 
self-loved,  our  earth  is  also  sun-loved,  and 
drawn  by  invisible  bands  it  is  swept  for- 
ward out  of  winter  into  summer.  Then  en- 
ters in  a  thii-d  principle,  by  which  Neptune 
and  Uranus,    lying  upon   the  edge  of  space, 

302 


Making  the  Most  of  One's  Self 

seek  fellowship  with  our  planet  and  hold  it  at 
a  fixed  distuncc  from  the  sun's  fierce  heat. 
Thus  self-love  has  given  the  earth  individuality, 
the  love  of  other  planets  secures  stability, 
while  the  sun's  love  gives  movement  and  wealth. 
Working  together,  these  three  principles  se- 
cure the  harmony  and  stability  of  the  planetary 
world.  Similarly,  each  individual  is  part  of  a 
great  social  system.  Each  moves  forward  un- 
der the  embrace  of  three  laws,  called  love  to 
God,  love  to  neighbor,  and  love  to  self.  Upon 
obedience  to  these  laws  rests  all  social  wealth 
and  civilization. 

We  hear  little  of  individualism,  and  much  of 
the  solidarity  of  society.  A  bloodless  and  self- 
ish destruction  of  the  rights  of  the  many  has 
threatened  the  very  foundations  of  human  hap- 
piness and  compelled  the  recognition  of  the 
fact  that  the  weakness  and  injury  of  one  are 
the  weakness  and  injury  of  ail.  Ours  is  a 
world  in  which  the  law  of  the  survival  of  the 
fittest  not  only  works,  but  works  very 
rapidly.  Thus  the  more  wealth  a  man  has 
the  more  he  can  achieve.  To-day,  it  is  said,  the 
various  members  of  the  Rothschild  family  in 
the  different  capitals  of  Europe  control  nine 
billions  of  dollars.  This  sum  is  accumulating 
like  a  rolling  snowball,  and  will  soon  surpass, 
and  perhaps  absorb  I  he  wealth  of   several  of 

303 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

the  smaller  European  nations.  Similarly,  in 
the  realm  of  wisdom,  the  more  a  man  knows 
the  more  he  can  know.  Sir  William  Jones  tells 
us  that  he  gave  five  years  to  mastering  his 
first  language,  while  six  weeks  were  sufficient 
for  acquiring  his  fortieth  dialect.  Thus,  too, 
in  the  realm  of  inventive  skill,  each  tool  be- 
comes the  parent  of  a  score  of  other  tools. 
The  studies  preparatory  to  Edison's  first  mech- 
anism covered  a  long  period  of  years;  but, 
gaining  momentum,  his  inventive  skill  in- 
creased in  geometric  ratio,  until  to-day  the 
famous  electrician  holds  nearly  a  thousand  pat- 
ents; but,  as  nothing  succeeds  like  success,  so 
.nothing  is  so  ruinous  as  failure.  The  weaker 
a  man  is,  the  weaker  he  must  become.  When 
a  man  who  seeks  employment  is  shabby  and 
gaunt  and  nerveless,  his  poverty  lessens  his 
chances,  but  to-morrow  he  will  be  weaker  and 
shabbier,  and  day  by  day  the  rapidity  of  his 
declension  will  increase. 

Startled  by  these  considerations,  our  gener- 
ation pei'ceives  that  success  feeding  upon  its 
gains  will  soon  drink  up  all  the  energies  of  the 
earth,  while  failure,  growing  more  ruinous, 
will  sweep  multitudes  into  the  abyss.  There- 
fore, society  has  come  to  fully  recognize  the 
importance  of  a  mutual  love  and  mutual  ser- 
vice.    When  a  man  falls  we  are  less  and  less 

304 


Making  the  Most  of  One's  Self 

ready  to  kick  him.  If  the  poorly  born  drops 
behind  in  life's  race,  society  is  increasingly 
ready  to  set  him  upon  some  beast.  If  .some 
man's  brain  is  sponp;y,  and  his  mental  proc- 
esses slow,  the  stronger  minds  arc  belting  his 
faculties  to  their  swifter  energies.  If  a  man's 
moral  springtime  is  slow,  says  one  of  our  so- 
cial reformers,  society  (its  up  for  him  a  little 
ethical  conservatory,  with  steam  heat  and 
southern  exposure,  where  the  buds  are  given 
a  little  judicious  stimulating  and  pushing. 

Society  is  recognizing  the  debt  of  strength 
to     weakness.        The     man     who     has     skill 
in  speech  is  becoming  a  voice  for  the  dumb. 
Those  who  have  skill  toward  wealth  are  becom- 
ing the   almoners   of  bounty  toward   art,   ed- 
ucation   and    morals.     Men  who  selfishly   get 
much  and  give  little,   who  have  become  Dead 
Seas  of  accumulated  treasure,  are  losing  their 
standing  in  society.     More  and  more  cities  are 
bestowing  their  honors  and  esteem  upon  those 
who  serve  their  fellows.      Men   are   becoming 
magazines,  sending  out  kindness  everywhither. 
Men  are  becoming  gardens,   lilling  all  the  air 
with  pungent  fragrance.      Men  are  becoming 
castles,     in    which    the    poor    find    protection. 
The  floods  of  iniquity  have  long  covered    the 
earth,  but  love  is  the  dove  bringing  the  olive 
branch  of  peace.     Love  sings  the  dawn  of   a 

new  day. 

305 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

Our  generation  does  well  to  emphasize  the 
principle  of  social  sympathy  and  social  liabil- 
ity. But,  because  individual  worth  is  being 
threatened,  the  time  seems  to  have  fully  come 
for  also  emphasizing  man's  duty  to  love  and 
make  the  most  of  himself.  Of  late,  self-care 
and  self-enrichment,  as  a  principle  of  life,  have 
been  berated  and  harshly  condemned.  Yet 
Christ  recognized  selfness  as  a  principle  most 
proper  and  praiseworthy  and  one  to  be  used  as 
the  basis  and  measure  of  all  moral  worth.  By 
so  much  as  man  loves  and  secures  for  himself 
the  physical  benefits  and  social  incitements  of 
life,  by  that  much  he  is  to  love  his  fellows. 
And  the  failure  to  love  one's  self  wisely  and 
passionately  ends  by  making  it  impossible  for 
man  to  love  his  fellows.  Plato's  thought  is 
ever  with  us:  "The  granary  must  be  filled  be- 
fore the  poor  are  fed;  knowledge  must  be 
gained  before  knowledge  is  given."  Happy 
the  philanthropist  whose  generosity  has  found- 
ed school  or  library.  But  this  gift  of  to-day  is 
made  jjossible  only  by  the  industry  and  thrift 
of  yesterday.  Happy  the  surgeon  whose  skill  in 
a  crisis  hour  has  saved  some  valuable  life.  But 
the  hand  that  performs  what  seems  a  miracle 
of  surgery  has  back  of  it  twenty  years  of  vig- 
ilant study  and  practice. 

Ours  is  a  world  in  which  the  amount  of  wis- 

306 


Making  the  Most  of  One's  Self 

dom  or  wealth  or  friendship  to  be  distributed 
is  predetermined  by  the  amount  required.  The 
flow  of  the  faucet  is  determined  by  the  fullness 
of  the  reservoir.  The  speed  of  the  electric  car 
is  fixed  by  the  energy  stored  in  the  power 
house.  The  power  of  the  ])iston  is  in  the  push 
of  the  accumulated  steam.  The  Nile  has  force 
to  feed  civilizations,  because  there  are  a  thou- 
sand streams  and  rivers,  a  thousand  hills  and 
mountains  lying  back  of  the  Nile's  current, 
and  crowding  it  forward.  If  we  could  sit 
down  by  the  famous  Santa  Barbara  vine,  and 
speaking  with  it  as  with  a  familiar  friend,  ask 
how  it  came  to  give  man  a  half-ton  of  purple 
treasure  in  a  single  summer,  the  reply  would 
be  that  this  rich  treasure  was  grown  and  given 
in  one  summer  because  two  hundred  summers 
were  given  to  growing  a  vast  root  and  trunk, 
to  large  stems  and  stalks. 

When  Nestor  stood  forth  before  the  Greek 
generals  and  counseled  attack  upon  Troy,  he 
said:  "The  secret  of  victory  is  in  getting  a 
good  ready."  Wendell  Phillips  was  once  asked 
how  he  acquired  his  skill  in  the  oratory  of  the 
lost  arts.  The  answer  was:  "By  getting  a 
hundred  nights  of  delivery  back  of  me. "  Shake- 
speare tells  us  all  that  the  clouds  give  in  rain  what 
they  get  in  mist,  which  is  the  poet's  way  of  say- 
ing that  what  he  gave  in  inspiration  he  got  by 

307 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

way  of  perspiration.  Some  years  ago  a  young 
man  asked  a  distinguished  scholar  and  writer 
what  he  thou^^ht  of  the  hin-her  education.  "If 
I  were  twenty,  and  had  but  ten  years  to  live," 
answered  the  publicist,  ' '  I  would  spend  the 
first  nine  years  accumulating  knowledge  and 
getting  ready  for  the  tenth."  Indeed,  the 
measure  of  inflvience  in  any  man  is  the  measure 
of  his  reserves.  The  youth  who  will  rule  to- 
morrow is  the  youth  who  to-day  is  storing  up 
resources  of  knov/ledge  and  wisdom,  of  self- 
reliance  and  courage. 

All  history  does  but  repeat  the  princi- 
ple. Surveying  the  past,  we  note  that  the 
nations  that  have  made  great  contributions  to 
civilization  have  been  isolated.  Our  historians 
tell  us  that  the  Hebrew  gave  conscience  and 
morals,  the  Greek  reason  and  culture,  the 
Roman  law  and  government,  the  Teuton  liberty 
and  the  rise  of  woman.  But,  singularly  enough, 
not  one  of  these  nations  lived  in  an  open, 
extended  country.  Each  forceful  race  has 
dwelt  upon  some  island  or  peninsula.  The 
Hebrew  was  shut  in  between  the  desert  and 
the  sea,  and  there  restrained  until  he  accumu- 
lated his  moral  treasure.  He  was  compelled 
to  fall  back  upon  his  own  resources.  By  prac- 
tice he  found  out  that  it  was  not  best  to  steal; 
that  society  lived  more  happily  and  peacefully 

308 


Makinfj  the  Most  of  One's  Self 

when  the  pi-o[)orty  of  each  individual  was 
respected.  Similarly,  God  gave  him  the  work 
of  formulating  each  of  the  ten  commandments. 
Slowly  the  moral  treasure  grew.  The  jurist 
gave  law,  the  poet  sang  songs,  the  prophet 
poured  out  his  rhapsody,  the  patriot  and 
martyr  died  for  principle,  and  the  roll  of  the 
heroes  lengthened.  At  last  the  pages  of  Jew- 
ish liistory  were  filled  with  names  glowing  and 
glorious  as  the  nights  with  stars. 

Then  came  Jesus  Christ,  filling  all  the  land 
with  spiritual  energies.  Soon  the  pressure  of 
moral  fcirces  was  so  strong  as  to  break  throiigh 
all  restraints.  Then  these  moral  treasures 
poured  forth  over  all  the  earth.  Having  given 
the  two  thousand  years  before  Christ  to 
accumulating  its  moral  energies,  the  Hebrew 
race  acquired  momentum  enough  to  continue 
the  civilizing  tide  through  the  two  thousand 
years  after  Christ.  Similarly  Greece,  the 
mother  of  the  arts  and  sciences,  was  shut  in 
between  the  mountains  and  the  sea  until  the 
intellectual  tides  grew  deep  and  strong. 

But  not  alone  does  history  urge  us  to  make 
the  most  of  ourselves.  All  our  great  men 
illustrate  the  same  principle.  Of  late  atten- 
tion has  been  called  to  the  fact  that  our  cities 
are  being  ruled  by  men  whoso  childhood  and 
youth  were    spent  in  the  country.      Isolated, 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

brooding  for  years  in  the  fields  and  forests, 
these  boys  developed  a  forceful  individuality. 
A  recent  canvass  of  the  prominent  men  in  New 
York  City  showed  that  eighty-five  per  cent  were 
reared  in  the  villages  and  rural  districts. 
Seventeen  of  our  twenty-three  presidents  came 
from  the  farm.  A  census  of  the  colleges  and 
seminaries  in  and  about  Chicago  showed  that 
the  country  is  furnishing  eighty  per  cent  of  our 
college  students.  The  chances  of  success  seem 
one  hundred  to  one  in  favor  of  the  country  boy. 
Many  explain  this  by  saying  that  there  is  a 
mathematical  relation  between  a  fine  physique 
and  a  firm,  intellectual  tread.  Good  thinking 
rests  upon  fine  brain-fiber.  But  this  is  only 
half  the  truth. 

These  giants  from  the  country  learned 
in  youth  not  to  depend  upon  books  and  news- 
papei-s,  but  upon  their  eyes  and  ears.  Hav- 
ing no  external  resources,  they  turned  their 
thoughts  inward  and  led  forth  their  own  facul- 
ties. They  did  not  wait  until  they  opened  the 
journal  to  find  out  what  they  thought  about 
some  important  subject,  but,  unaided,  they 
wrought  out  their  own  ojoinions,  and  through 
self-reliance  grew  great.  Should  any  sower 
go  forth  to  sow  in  the  streets  of  the  city,  he 
would  reap  but  a  small  harvest.  The  hard, 
beaten  roadway  would  give  the  grain  no  lodg- 

310 


Making  the  Most  of  One's  Self 

ment;  but  sown  on  the  open  furrows,  the  seed 
roots  and  grows.  Thus  the  mind  of  the  city 
youth  is  a  roadway  beaten  down  by  the  myriad 
events  of  life.  His  individuality  is  a  root  hav- 
ing little  chance  to  grow. 

The  mornings  raiu  newspapers,  the  even- 
ings increase  events,  the  very  skies  rain 
pamphlets.  Individuality  is  overwhelmed  with 
many  things.  Soon  the  mind  ceases  to  de- 
velop its  own  mental  treasui'e,  and  is  content 
to  receive  its  incitements  from  without.  Be- 
cause schools  and  colleges  are  multiplied,  the 
youth  who  has  never  gone  to  the  bottom  of  a 
single  subject  imagines  that  he  is  a  fine  student. 
Because  his  shelves  are  crowded  with  books,  the 
man  deceives  himself  into  thinking  that  he  has 
read  them  all.  Because  our  age  is  rich  in  me- 
chanical appliances  and  inventions,  many  who 
cannot  drive  a  nail  straight  imagine  that  they 
have  been  really  instrumental  in  ushering  in 
this  magnificent  epoch.  Many  sing  peans  of 
exultation  over  this  wondrous  civilization  who 
are  mental  and  industrial  paupers,  whose  chief 
ground  of  congratulation  is  that  they  got 
themselves  born  into  this  particular  century. 
But  power  does  not  come  that  way.  Moses 
will  control  all  our  jurists  to-morrow  because 
he  spent  forty  years  in  the  desert  reflecting 
upon   the  principles  of  justice.      Paul  had  the 

^11 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

honor  to  fashion  our  political  institutions  be- 
cause he  gave  twelve  years  of  general  prepara- 
tion and  three  years  of  special  application  to 
the  study  of  individual  rights.  Milton  tells  us 
that  he  spent  four  and  thirty  years  of  solitary 
and  unceasing  study  in  accumulating  his  ma- 
terial for  a  heroic  poem  that  the  world  would 
not  willingly  let  die. 

Homer  wrote  the  "Iliad"  because  he  was 
blind  and  driven  in  upon  his  own  resources. 
Dante  wrote  his  "Inferno"  because  he  was  ex- 
iled, and  in  isolation  had  time  to  store  up  his 
mental  treasure.  Webster  and  Lincoln  spent 
years  in  the  forests  and  fields,  reflecting  and 
brooding,  anal3'^zing  and  comparing.  Many  a 
long  summer  passed  while  they  sovv^ed  and 
garnered  their  mental  treasure.  Pasteur 
gave  our  generation  much,  because  for  thirty 
years  he  isolated  himself  and  got  much  to  give. 
When  Lowell  speaks  of  the  attar  of  roses,  he 
remxinds  us  of  the  whole  fields  of  crimson  blos- 
soms that  have  been  swept  together 
in  one  tiny  vial.  When  Starr  King  saw 
the  great  trees  of  California  standing 
forth  twenty-five  feet  in  diameter  and 
lifting  their  crowns  three  hundred  feet  into 
the  sunshine,  he  was  so  impressed  by  their 
dignity  and  beauty  as  to  be  touched  into 
tears;     but     the    size    of  the    trees    did    not 

312 


Making  the  Most  of  One's  Self 

explain  his  emotion.  It  was  the  thought  of 
the  i-eserve  energies  that  had  been  compacted 
into  them.  The  mountains  had  given  their 
iron  and  rich  stimulants,  the  hills  had  given 
their  soil,  the  clouds  had  given  their  rain  and 
snow,  a  thousand  summers  and  winters  had 
poured  forth  their  treasure  about  the  vast 
roots.  Thus  the  authors  and  statesmen  who 
will  help  the  next  generation  are  to-day  en- 
eaored  in  lovinor  themselves  and  makintj  the 
most  of  their  talents.  Not  until  they  have 
compacted  within  themselves  a  thousand  knowl- 
edges and  virtues  will  they  be  able  to  love 
others. 

With  sadness  let  us  confess  that  our  age  is 
sinning  grievously  against  this  principle  of 
self-care  and  self-love.  Individual  worth  is  be- 
ing sorely  neglected.  An  age  is  great  not 
through  a  large  census  roll,  but  through  a 
multitude  of  gi-eat  souls,  just  as  a  book  is  val- 
uable not  by  having  many  pages,  but  by  con- 
taining great  ideas.  The  paving-stones  in  our 
streets  are  very  diffei-ent  from  sapphires.  The 
bringing  together  of  65,000,000  small  granite 
blocks  will  not  turn  these  stones  into  diamonds. 
It  is  only  when  each  stone  is  a  gem  that  the 
increase  of  number  means  the  increase  of 
beauty.  No  nation  is  moving  forward  toward 
supremacy  merely  because  the  weak  individuals 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

began  to  go  in  droves.  In  our  education  we 
are  singing  peans  and  praise  about  our  schools 
and  new  methods  of  education.  Meanwhile 
Frederic  Harrison  insists  that  in  fifty  years 
the  public  schools  of  Great  Britain  have  turned 
out  not  one  mind  of  the  first  order.  Some  of 
those  who  have  achieved  renown  in  literature 
or  statecraft  were  self-educated.  The  rest  en- 
joyed the  help  of  some  parent  or  friend,  who 
very  early  in  the  child's  career  took  the  pains 
to  search  out  the  child's  strongest  faculty,  and 
then  asked  some  tutor  or  teacher  to  assist  in 
nourishing  the  special  talent  toward  great- 
ness. 

At  home,  President  White  is  telling  us  that 
our  authors  and  poets  are  dead,  and  have  no 
successors.  Nor  could  it  be  otherwise.  When 
a  skillful  driver  wishes  to  develop  the  speed  of 
a  thoroughbred  colt,  he  specializes  upon  this 
one  animal.  No  sensible  hoi-seman  would  put 
forty  colts  upon  a  track  and  try  to  develop  their 
speed  by  driving  them  around  in  a  drove.  It 
remains  for  the  parents  of  this  country  to 
adopt  the  method  of  training  their  children  in 
droves,  and  educating  them  in  herds.  Our 
common- school  system  began  in  the  necessity 
for  the  division  of  labor.  Settling  in  the  wilds 
of  New  England,  the  men  went  into  the  forests 
with  axes,  or  to  the  field  with  their  hoes.     The 

314 


Making  the  Most  of  One's  Self 

mothers  went  into  the  garden  or  to  the  loom. 
Rather  than  that  their  children  should  have  no 
education,  many  parents  came  together  and 
asked  some  one  man  or  woman  to  do  the  work 
for  all.  Thus  our  common  schools  wore  born 
out  of  poverty  and  emergency. 

But  at  length  has  come  a  time  when  parents, 
in  blind  worship  of  a  system,  have  farmed  their 
children  out  to  intellectual  wet-nurses.  Many 
children  who  possess  talent  of  the  first  order  in 
the  realm  of  poetry  or  literature  ai'e  compelled 
during  the  most  precious  period  of  life  to  spend 
years  upon  subjects  that  yield  them  no  culture 
effect.  Meanwhile  their  enthusiasm  is  wasted, 
and  their  strongest  faculties  starved.  Only 
when  it  is  too  late  do  they  discover  the  ci'uel 
injustice  that  has  been  wrought  upon  them, 
and  I'ecognize  that  they  must  I'emain  unfulfilled 
pi'ophecies.  Our  common  schools  have  wrought 
most  effectively  for  our  civilization.  They  are 
the  hope  of  society.  But  not  until  our  parents 
become  enthusiastic  teachers,  and  our  homes 
assist  the  school  rooms,  will  men  cease  com- 
plaining that  the  nation's  great  men  have  no 
successors,  and  that  genius  has  departed  from 
our  people. 

The  time  has  fully  come  for  the  nation  also 
to  begin  to  love  itself.  All  pei'ceive  that  the 
individual  has  no  right  to  be  so  generous  to- 

3'5 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

day  as  to  have  nothing  to  bestow  to-raorrow. 
Wisdom  guards  to-day's  expenditures  lest 
to-morrow's  capital  be  impaired.  He  is  a  poor 
husbandman  who  so  overtaxes  his  fields  or 
vineyai'ds  as  to  exhaust  the  soil  or  destroy  the 
vine.  Yet  many  events  seem  to  prove  that 
our  nation  has  sorely  injured  itself  by  over- 
kindness.  It  has  forgotten  that  only  God  can 
love  everybody.  In  trying  to  help  the  many  it 
has  threatened  its  power  to  help  any.  It  has 
been  like  a  man  who  on  a  Januai'y  day  opens 
his  windows  and  tries  to  warm  all  out  of  doors, 
only  to  find  that  he  has  frozen  his  family 
within  the  house,  and  warmed  no  one  without. 
If  we  journey  into  the  factory  towns  in  New 
England,  whei^e  the  youthful  Whittier  and 
Longfellow  were  trained,  we  find  the  school- 
houses  with  windows  boarded  over.  The  little 
chui'ches  also  ai'e  deserted  and  the  doors  nailed 
up.  Listening  to  the  ' '  reformers  "  in  our  parks 
on  a  Sunday  afternoon,  Ave  are  amazed  by  the 
virulent  attacks  upon  our  institutions.  Con- 
versing with  the  foreman  of  a  large  group 
of  men  laying  water-pipes,  we  are  astonished 
at  his  statement  that  he  has  not  a  single  man 
who  can  write  well  enough  to  keep  the  time 
and  hours  of  these  toilers.  Standinsr  in  Castle 
Garden,  where  the  emigrant  ship  unloads  its 
multitudes,    we    hear    the    physician    exclaim: 

316 


Making  tlie  Most  of  One's  Self 

**It  will  take  this  nation  a  hundred  years  to 
expel  this  vice  and  scrofula  from  its  blood." 

As  some  railways  water  their  stock,  and  for 
each  dollar  issue  bonds  for  five,  in  the  hope  that 
only  one  of  the  five  will  ever  know  enough  to  ask 
for  their  dollar,  so  the  intelligence  of  the  nation 
has  been  watered  and  diluted.  Sometimes  a 
whole  ballot-box  full  of  voters'  tickets  does  not 
contain  the  common  sense  of  a  single  vote  of 
the  days  of  Hamilton.  Our  nation  often  seems 
like  a  householder  who  has  given  his  night-key 
to  an  enemy  who  has  threatened  his  home  with 
firebrands.  Our  nation  has  loved — not  wisely, 
but  too  well.  The  time  has  come  when  it  must 
choose  between  loving  itself  and  becoming 
bankrupt  in  intelligence  and  morality.  For 
purposes  of  educating  the  nations  of  the  world 
as  to  the  true  value  of  free  institutions,  one 
little  New  England  community,  where  all  the 
citizens  were  patriots  and  heroes,  scholars  and 
Christians,  where  vulgarity  and  crime  were  un- 
known, where  the  jail  was  empty  and  the 
church  was  full,  whei'e  all  young  lives  moved 
toward  the  school-house — one  such  community 
has  a  value  beyond  our  present  millions. 

What  the  world  needs  is  not  multitudes,  but 
examples  and  ideals.  If  one  Plato  can  be  pro- 
duced, he  will  lift  the  world.  Our  citizens  ask 
artists  to  paint  their  pictures — not  bootblacks. 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

We  ask  architects  to  erect  our  public  buildings 
— not  chimney  sweeps.  Loving  their  city,  our 
citizens  have  lined  the  avenues  with  beautiful 
homes  and  streets  with  stores  and  factories. 
But  here  their  self-love  stops.  When  great 
men  have  created  the  city,  they  ask  saloon- 
keepers to  govern  it.  Well  did  the  sage  say, 
it  was  as  if  we  had  passed  by  Daniel  Webster 
and  asked  an  African  ape  to  speak  in  his  stead. 
Strange — passing  strange — that  our  nation 
and  city  should  forget  that  all  love  for  others 
begins  with  a  wise  love  for  self. 

We  return  from  our  survey  with  the  convic- 
tion that  Jesus  Chinst  did  well  to  make  in- 
dividual worth  the  genius  of  Christianity. 
Having  moved  backward  along  the  pathway  of 
history,  we  have  found  the  streams  of  civiliza- 
tion taking  rise  in  some  one  enriched  mind  and 
heart,  even  as  mighty  rivers  issue  from  isola- 
ted springs.  Looking  backward  we  see  Moses 
building  the  Hebrew  temple;  we  see  Pericles 
and  Plato  fashioning  many  shapes  of  truth  and 
beauty  for  Athens;  we  see  Dante  laying  the 
foundations  of  Florence;  we  see  Cai'lo  Zeno 
causing  Venice  to  rise  out  of  the  sands  of 
the  sea;  we  see  Bacon  and  Luther  rearing 
the  cathedrals  of  thought  and  worship,  under 
which  the  millions  find  their  shelter.  Op- 
pressed by  a  sense  of  human  ignorance  and 

318 


Making  the  Most  of  One's  Self 

human  sin,  a  thousand  questions  arise.  Can 
one  jjoorly  born  journey  toward  greatness  of 
stature?  The  Cremona  violin  of  the  sixteenth 
century  is  a  mass  of  condensed  melody.  Each 
atom  was  soaked  in  a  thousand  songs,  until 
the  instrument  reeks  with  sweetness.  But 
can  a  human  instrument,  long  out  of  tune  and 
sadly  injured,  e'er  be  brought  back  to  har- 
mony of  being?  In  the  studio  of  the  sculptor 
lie  blocks  of  deserted  marble.  Out  of  one 
emerges  a  hand,  another  exhibits  the  outlines 
of  a  face.  Bvit  for  some  reason  the  artist  has 
forsaken  them.  It  seems  that  as  the  chisel 
worked  inward,  it  uncovered  some  crack  or  re- 
vealed a  dark  stain.  Therefore  the  scvilptor 
passed  it  by,  preferring  the  flawless  block  of 
snowy  marble.  Is  the  soul  soiled  by  sin,  to  be 
cast  off  by  the  divine  Sculptor? 

Journeying  across  the  plains,  ti'avelers  look- 
ing through  the  car  windows  behold  the  Cali- 
fornia trail.  The  wagon  ruts  have  become 
ditches,  and  the  old  route  is  marked  by  human 
graves.  But  long  ago  men  exchanged  the  ox 
cart,  the  deep  wagon  ruts,  and  the  wearisome 
journey,  for  palace  cars.  Thus  there  are  many 
paths  of  sin  worn  deep  by  pressure  of  human 
feet.  Many  would  fain  forsake  them.  But  is 
there  any  divine  power  to  cast  up  some  divine 
highway?     Is  there  a  happiness?     Nature  is 

319 


A  Man's  Value  to  Society 

kind  to  her  grains  and  sweeps  them  forward 
toward  harvests ;  is  kind  toward  her  apple  seeds 
and  bids  them  journey  unto  orchards;  is  kind 
unto  the  March  days,  and  bids  them  journey 
into  perpetual  summer. 

And  man  wovild  fain  find  some  divine 
friend  who  will  lead  him  unto  great  per- 
sonal worth.  As  if  to  fulfill  man's  deep- 
est needs,  Jesus  Christ  enters  the  earthly 
scene.  He  comes  to  hasten  man's  step  along 
that  pathway  that  leads  from  littleness  unto 
largeness.  Before  our  admiring  vision  the 
Divine  Teacher  seems  like  some  sacred  hus- 
bandman. His  garden  our  earth,  good  men  and 
great  earth's  richest  fruit.  He  asks  each  youth 
to  love  and  make  the  most  of  himself,  that 
later  on  he  may  be  bread  to  the  hungry,  medi- 
cine to  the  wounded,  shelter  to  the  weak.  He 
bids  each  love  his  own  reason,  getting  wisdom 
with  that  eager  passion  that  Hugh  Miller  had 
for  knowledee.  He  bids  each  make  the  most 
of  friendship,  emulating  Plato  in  his  love  for 
his  noble  teacher.  He  asks  each  to  love  in- 
dustiy,  emulating  Peabody,  whose  generosity 
gushed  like  rivers.  He  asks  each  to  make  the 
most  of  courage  and  self-reliance,  emulating 
Livingstone  in  self-denying  service.  He  bids 
each  emulate  and  look  up  to  Jesus  Christ,  as 
Dante,    midst  the  pitchy  night,  looked  ud  to- 

320 


Making  the  Most  of  One's  Self 

ward  the  star.  II(>  bids  each  move  heaven  and 
earth  to  achieve  for  himself  a  worthy  man- 
hood. For  thus  only  can  earth  ever  be  moved 
back  imto  heaven. 


Index 


Abclard 166 

Abraham,    influence 

on  posterity 16 

Abundant  Life 20 

Jischylus l'.»8 

Agassiz 103,  237 

Aristotle 124 

Arkwright 99 

Arnold 135,  216,  292 

Thos 164 

Aspirations  and 

Ideals 53 

number  and  kind     61 
power  to  lift  life     58 

the  use  of    63 

rebuke  lower  life     66 
enemies  of 70 

Babbape 287 

Bancroft,  Geo 10 

Beatrice 44 

Beecher..l9,  95,  134,  142, 

188. 258 

Bible.. .32,  98,   142,   164, 

255 
Body,  a  thinking  ma- 
chine      80 

delicacy  of   sen- 
sation      80 

evolution 81 

its  needs  as  stim- 
uli      88 

channel  of  knowl- 
edges      88 

system  of  moral 
registration  . .     93 


Books  and  reading. .  233 
increase  of  power 

of  vision 238 

show      men     at 

their  best 239 

tools  for    the 

mind 240 

multiply  brain 

forces 243 

preserve  the  spir- 
it of  great  men  243 
give  information  246 
show     unity     of 

progress 249 

choice  of  books. .   250 
Brooks,  Phillips..  44,  254 

Brown,  John 58 

Browning,  Mrs 248 

Bulwer  Lytton 135 

Bunyan 114 

Burns 158,  294 

Byron... 48,  188,   198,  2.50 

Cadmus 16 

Caird 84 

Capital,  original 13 

Carlyle..76,  214,234, 239, 

255 

Castelar 40 

Channing...l92,  225,  234 

Character  .., 31,  44 

defined 34 

materials  of . . .  .     34 

Charles  IX 203 

Clay 154,  262 

Climate,  effect  on 
race 16 


323 


Index 


Coleridge.47,133,  200, 

293 

Columbus       ...    .56. 

15'>. 

Confucius 

33 

Conscience  and  Char- 

acter   

187 

working  of  con- 

science  191, 

201 

uses    and    func- 

tions   

199 

standard  

199 

relation  to  judg- 

ment  

200 

influence   on 

memory 

201 

in  daily  life 

202 

commercial  .... 

205 

emotional 

208 

to  the  past 

209 

Contrasts   and     e  x- 

tremes,  teachers. . 

47 

Cooper,  Peter 

177 

Cranmer 

145 

Cromwell 29,  40, 

100 

Curtis,  Geo.  Wm 

23 

Dana 84 

Dante  ...21,  78,  129,  150, 
165,198,  215,  312, 318 

David 48,  165 

Death 95 

Demosthenes 198 

De  Tocqueville 136 

Dickens 106 

Distribution  of  abil- 
ity in  U.  S 22 

Dore 124 

Douglass,  Frederick.  333 

Dreams 64 

Drummond 82,  84 

Dwight's  dictum 15 

Edison 169,  304 

Elements  of  worth  in 
individual 9 


Eliot,  Geo  ..178,  196,  222 

Emerson.  13,  31,  34,  43,  98, 

103,  122,  150,  164 

Enthusiasm 168 

of  friendship.  . .   165 

Epictetus 174 

Evolution 82 

External    world  a 
teacher 37 

Faraday 248 

Fiske 94 

Friendship 163 

secret    of  e  m  i- 
nence 173 

refining 178 

Froude 173 

Garibaldi 171.  184 

Gladstone 43,  69 

Goethe 151 

Grant.    184 

Greeley 33 

Guttenberg  printing 
press 83 

Hamilton 132,201 

Handel 153 

Harrison,  Frederic. . 

234,  250,  314 

Hawthorne 107 

Health 75 

Helps,   Arthur.    ....   253 

Heredity    130 

Herod 189 

Heroes  raised  up  to 

teach  men 58,  59 

Hoe,  printing  press.     82 

Holland,  J.  G 23 

Holmes,  O.  W 13 

Homer 60,  312 

Hugo 193 

Huss 145,  150 

Huxley 76 


324 


Index 


Idpals,  toachers 49 

Ignorance 19,  31 

Imaffination 141 

defined 147 

sustains  men. .  .   149 
plice  in  science 
and  invention,   l.'i? 

mechanics l.'iS 

helps  character.    1.56 

abuse  of I.')? 

lifts  above   mis- 
fortune    159 

reveals  God lOO 

Integrity 27 

Iron,   value   of    raw 
and  manufactured     20 

Jacob's  vision. ..  .70,  166 

Jesus..  14,  29,  30,  31,  40, 

51,    59,    115,    118,    183, 

189,  210,  215,  371,  309, 

318    319 

John 14 

Johnson.  . ., 47,  166 

Jones,  Sir  Wm 304 

Judas  Ibcariot 135 

Keats 106 

King,  Starr 312 

Knowledge 20 

Kossuth 184 

Lamartine 34 

Lamb 47,  166,  244 

Lecky 45 

Lee,  inventor  of  loom    47 

Lincoln. .34,41,  169,  319, 

284,  313 

Livingstone.  .58,  78,  236, 

241 
Living  with  men. ...  257 
the  largest  sub- 
ject    259 

training     neces- 
sary  262 


the  most  impor- 
tant act 

the  most  difficult 
aim   and  end  of 

life 

test  of  manhood 

Locke 

Lodge's  study  of  dis- 
tribution of  ability 

Longfellow 129, 

Lowell..  .31,  98,  142, 

Lubbock's  intjuiry  of 

Indian  chief. ...  16, 

Luther.. 40,   41,    58, 

100, 

]\facaulay 132, 

Making  the  most  of 

one's  self 

self -care  and  self- 
love 

debt  of  strength 

to  weakness. .. 

examples     from 

history 

examples      from 

great  men 

duty  of   the  na- 
tion  

teaching  of  Chris 
Man  a  douV)le   crea- 
ture  

^lann,  Horace 

Massachusetts,   edu- 
cation  

M'Cosh 

Michael  Angelo.  118, 

Mill.  John  Stuart..! 

Millais,  Martyr 

Millet's  Angelus. . . . 
Milton.. .34,  56,  79, 

129,  153,   167,  174, 

234,312 


264 
266 

274 
275 
122 

22 
252 
312 

175 

78, 
171 

263 
299 
301 
305 
309 
309 

316 

t318 

85 
17 


84 

149, 

314 

2,  25 

58 

20 

114, 

198, 


325 


Index 


Mind  and  the  duty  of 
right  thinking. ...     97 
its      wonderful- 

ness 101 

its  fruitf Illness,.   103 
determines  char- 
acter    114 

Misfits  in  life 13 

Mivart 116 

Monotony,  a  teacher     43 
Moral    uses    of    the 

memory 131 

Basis  of  civiliza- 
tion    135 

power 131 

examples,      Ma- 
caulay,      Nie- 

buhr,  etc 131 

influenced       by 
conscience. .  ..  201 

Napoleon.l7, 143, 153,184 
Newness  as  a  teacher    43 

Newton 84,  237,  338 

Nestor 307 

Niebuhr's  memory. .   131 

Nilsson 154 

Northampton,  noted 
men 33 


Obedience  to  law 37 

Oken 151 

Paganini 14,  362 

Pasteur 312 

Paul. .12,  41,  234,235,283 
Paupers,       plebeian 

and  patrician 13 

Peter 135 

Petrarch , .  166 

Phillips  135,  170,  217,  307 

Phidias 79,  135 

Phocion 34 

Physical     basis      of 

character 74 


Pitt 135 

Plato.  ..13,  163,  183,  189, 
214,  306 

Pliny 70 

Proctor 103 

Ptolemy 45 

Pythagoras 144 

Racial  elements 15 

Rameses 77 

Raphael 51 

Rasselas 47 

Responsi  bility 

a  teacher 46 

Revelators  of    char- 
acter    279 

the  face 383 

instances 385 

body 385 

habits  and  un- 
conscious de- 
sires  392 

power    of    pure 

character 297 

Richter 121 

Rosetti 121 

Ruskin...41,  43,  255,  358 

Savonarola.  ..41,  171,  191 
Scaliger's  memory.  .  131 

Schopenhauer 237 

Schiller 167,214 

Scott 150,  201 

Seneca's  memory.  ..  131 

Servetus 203 

Seward 188 

Shakespeare.. 33,  47,  51, 

53,  79,97,  135,136,  164, 

193,  307 

Silas  Marner 178 

Sin,  a  personal  fact..     87 
Skill     in     handling 

men 25 

Smith,  Adam 13 

Sidney Ill 


326 


Index 


Socrates...  14,  57,92,  130, 
1G5,  190,  214 

Solon 144 

Sophocles 198 

Sophroniscus 147 

Soutliey.    244 

Spciiicer,  Herbert.  ."SO,  1G8 

Stanley 217,  293 

Sterne 188 

Stupidity  of  sin 25 

Strength,  physical. .     17 

Strikes 25 

Swing.  ..97,  1G4,  212,  258 

Taylor 212 

Teachers  in  life 

external  world.  .  37 

temptation 39 

newness  and  zest  42 

monotony 44 

responsibility. . .  4G 
contrasts  and  ex- 
tremes   47 

ideals 49 

Temptation 39 

Tennyson..  121,  1G5,  172, 

284 

Thunistocles 22 

Thesnes IG 

Tholuck 51 

Thomson,  Sir  \Vm...  248 

Thompson 75 

Thoughts      affect 

face's  expression  109 

Thucydides 199 

Titian 2G3 

Trademarks 281 

Tubman,  Harriet....  223 

Tupper 35 

Tyudall 101 


Value  of  man,  finan- 

cial   

11 

ace.  to  race 

16 

thouglits     de- 

termine. .  .. 

HI 

Veronesi! 

113 

Virtril 

110 

Vision  hours.. 50,  G2, 

G8, 

230 

Visions  that  disturb. 

211 

shape  great  lives 

217 

bring  life's  best 

moods 

222 

conquer  sin 

223 

secure  service  foi 

right 

223 

make  good  men 

perfect 

224 

for  our  nation. . 

225 

Von  Humboldt 

189 

Moltke 

23 

Rile 

118 

Wastes  of  Society  . .       9 
through      ignor- 
ance      19 

hatred 28 

Washington 34,  188 

Watson,  Wm 212 

Watts 29,  80,  125,  152 

Webster.... 153,  192,  220, 
256,  262,  284,  312 

White,   l»re3 314 

Whitney,  Prof 23 

Wordsworth.  .47,  97,  lOG, 

178 

Zeno 318 

Zacharias 14 


327 


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